


War and Conquest

by VetnanGal13



Series: War and Conquest [1]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Gun Violence, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:55:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 59,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23901169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VetnanGal13/pseuds/VetnanGal13
Summary: After a crash landing on Earth jump starts a new life for Zim, even this far away from where he came from, secrets continue to follow him. Now being co-written with Monofpoke4life.tumblr.com!I am currently rewriting some of the early chapters!
Relationships: Dib & Zim (Invader Zim), Gaz & Zim (Invader Zim), Gaz/Zim (Invader Zim)
Series: War and Conquest [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894456
Comments: 36
Kudos: 91





	1. School

**Author's Note:**

> I do not, nor have I ever owned Invader Zim.

"Hey! Come back here young man!" A young child runs around a corner, squealing in delight from a good game of chase. His feet propel him forward on the gold-decorated deep red carpet. His shoes were removed after his last capture, where he received the ultimate torture: tickling. Thankfully, his current state of barefoot-ness gives him an advantage of speed, as he thought his shoes were much too stuffy and formal for playing anyway.

"Oh, excuse me, sorry, I’m just trying to get that rascal." The sweet voice of his former captor floated down the hall passed all of the elaborate portraits. The child giggled as he dodged the people and chairs that blocked his path to freedom. 

"I'm going to count to three! If you don't come back here right now you'll be in big trouble!" She laughed, like a sweet bell as she continued to chase after him. "It was so rude of you to run out on your tutor like that! Why I-" She slows down in her chase to think. "I did the same thing at his age, so who am I to be annoyed." She grinned, picked up her long skirt, kicked off her shoes and continued chase.

The people she passed gasped in shock of the sight of her running barefoot down the hall, but she didn’t care. To her, she felt as if she was having a much needed breath of fresh air, and all the side looks and whispers in the world wouldn’t stop her. Picking up speed, she almost trips over her skirt as she calls out to her son.

“I’m gonna get you!”

The boy glanced over his shoulder to see his mother catching up to him. She’s much faster than he is, and sure to catch up soon. Thankfully she didn't seem angry about his tutor, because he didn't like that old bat one bit! He didn't understand what 'war' and 'conquest' meant, but they didn't sound like 'toy' and 'playtime' so what’s to care about? He rounded a corner, and spotted an end point, the courtyard! Lots of bushes and trees to hide from her there. As well as the lush flower garden, with the soft soil beds to lie on in the sunshine.

"You'll never ever catch me!" He shrieked as he bounded down the hallway. His mother laughed as she ran down the hall after him, 

"Oh, I will! It’ll be tickle time for you, mister!" He glanced back at her, beaming at the joy in her face, and how funny she looked hoisting up that long red dress as she ran down the hallway. Her blue eyes sparkled from the little chandeliers hanging from the ceiling as she ran. Ahead of him, the creaking of a heavy wooden door opening echoed through the hallway. As he began to turn around, the child saw his mother’s smile drop from her face as she began to slow down. Then, he ran straight into a pair of legs standing in his way. He bounced backwards onto the floor, rubbing his palms painfully into the carpeted floor.

"You know, I've had it up to here with this nonsense." A dark, unhappy voice growled into the stark silence in the hallway. "You continuously run off on your tutors, disrupt my office when I am having-"

"He was just playing." The woman had caught up, leaning down to gently place her hand on her son's right shoulder. Her husband scowled at her.

"Shut up, Meva! You should've been keeping him in his place. I should've known that you were in no position to look after him. And you!" He turns his position to glare at his son, who tries desperately to sink into the folds of his mother's soft dress. "One day, you're supposed to take over for me, and this is how you act?"

"He’ll be taking over for  _ me,  _ and he's just a child-"

"I said, Shut up! Was I talking to you?" The whole hall is almost empty, with anyone left silently leaving the area. Meva shrinks back, and holds her son close. Her husband sighs with disgust and curls his hands into fists. 

"Sorry Meva, look, something needed to be done. I made arrangements for him. I'm sending him to a… military school of sorts. Something to really make him ready for his future in life, as these tutors are clearly having no effect on him."

"Milletery?" the boy whispers. "I don't want milletery. I wanna be a builder."

"It's  _ military _ you idiot." His father hisses at him. 

“Don’t speak to him like that!” Meva admonishes.

"Don’t you tell me what to do. Know your place.” He growls.

“I think you should know  _ yours _ .” Her husband takes a threatening step forward.

“I know my place, and it’s most certainly above  _ you. _ Now come on.” He reaches forward and yanks his son with him, away from the doors that led to the garden. “It's going to be good for you.” The child struggles against his grip, kicking his feet against the ground.

"Stop! Stop it! Leave him alone!" Meva shrieks with desperation as she yanks her husband away from their son.

"Get your hands off me!" He yells, backhanding her to the floor. He picks up his son, and continues down the hall.

"Mama! Mama!" His son cries and struggles in his arms, unable to escape his father’s grip. He gazes helplessly as his mother struggles to get up, her cheek darkened where she was hit.

"Stop crying! Stop it! She's making you soft." He grumbles as he withstands the little feet kicking against his stomach. Thank god for the thick dark robes he wears every day. 

"This school will make you a strong man, Zim. Just like your father." He hands his son to a general waiting with a craft, and walks back into the house, not looking back once.


	2. Crash

Just because Dib had laid claim to loving all of that weird paranormal stuff doesn't mean that Gaz can't enjoy just a bit of it too. True, he was extremely obsessive and definitely wrong about there being a ghost in their childhood home (It's amazing what you can do with a few spare holographic projectors and a voice modulator) but she had to admit that there was probably a bit of merit to some of his beliefs. Even though she faked the ghost, it doesn't mean that ghosts are inherently an impossibility. Just means her ‘stupid big-headed’ brother is gullible as hell. Right now he's off in Wisconsin or Wyoming trying to hunt bigfoot, which is definitely an interesting way to spend a gap year, if you asked Gaz, she muses to herself. She thinks he's right that aliens are real, but not necessarily that they're going to arrive any minute and suck all our brains out or whatever. But it's likely that there's life elsewhere out there. It's easy to believe that anyway when you look at the stars at night. Gaz isn’t too fond of a lot of things, or people, but she quietly admits to herself that it's nice out in the middle of nowhere. When art school gets too stressful, it's nice to drive out to some field somewhere, look at the stars, and murder pigs on her gameslave, nothing but the peaceful sounds of crickets and video game silence.

It's her first year of college, and her first time on her own, although Dib drops by in between his trips and her dad's been by once. Although she had no one to tell, she was actually enjoying school for the first time in her life. She smiled to herself as she remarked that she hadn't felt the need to shove anybody down a laundry chute yet, so that's something. 

Gaz was currently studying graphic design at a small art college in Pennsylvania, and her dream was to create art for video games in the future. She thought that this was also a surefire way to get access to video games before the general public did. That would be nice. Another bonus, she mused, was that next year she was going to be 21, and would no longer have to rely on Dib for alcohol, and would need to put up with his paranormal talks less. All good things are coming, she thought.

She paused her gameslave and just observed the stars. This far away from civilization, you can see all the hundreds of meteors that burn up in the atmosphere every second. Gaz would be hard pressed to confess this, but she thought it was beautiful. In her mind, she could stay here for years and waste away if the night didn't end. Closing her eyes just to absorb the sound of the crickets and the smell of the night air, she felt like the world had stopped spinning just for her.

Unfortunately, it seems nothing good can last forever. The wind began to pick up, making her feel cold. She sighed, another night cut short, and just as she was rolling up the towel she used to lay on, this loud noise interrupted her train of thought. It sounded like an extremely loud and  _ annoying _ whistling, and it was just getting louder by the second. Deeper sounding too, almost sounds like… a bomb? She paused in place, looking at the ground to think about the noise, when she noticed a soft orange glow reflecting on the grass, seeming to come from behind her. Confused, she turned around, her eyes widening as a large red fireball flew right at her.

"Shit!" She cried out, ducking to hit the ground faster than she ever thought she was capable of just to see this strange object smash into the ground a hundred feet in front of her. It looked round, but the tail end of it was completely obscured by fire, so she couldn’t really get a good look at the object.

' _ Holy shit, I was almost killed by a meteor. Dib is never gonna believe this.'  _ She thought. Although… The fire looked like it was dying down a bit, and as it did, she began to notice something… odd. Meteors aren’t red or pink. Or shiny... Right? Christ, it kinda looks like a... spaceship. She felt her heart lurch in her chest as the realization struck her, that she was looking at a spaceship.

“Um. Okay.” She muttered to herself. “I don't think there was a class on "What to do if a spaceship crash-lands in front of you," but I can think of something.” She stared numbly at the fire, when she remembered that she had a fire extinguisher in her car! A gift from her crazy paranoid brother. Quickly running to her car, she grabbed the fire extinguisher from the trunk, and carefully approached the burning wreck. It was roughly the size of a minivan, with half of its mass appearing to be the engines… of some kind. Gaz fumbled with the fire extinguisher nervously, a hysterical laugh at the absurdity of the situation bubbling up in her throat. As soon as she got it to work, she set out to put out the fire. As the flames died out, she noticed a large, strange, symbol on the side. It had a circle in the middle, with a triangle below it, and too smaller triangular shapes on top. She thought that it almost looked like a strange, abstract representation of a mouse’s head.

With the fires having shrunken down to embers, she decided to investigate the rest of the ship. She slowly walked around it, holding the fire extinguisher in a defensive stance. She kept her eyes on the ship as she walked, and when she reached what she thought was the front, she noticed it. The alien. Lying face down halfway out of the shattered windshield, it’s green skin reflecting the red warning lights flashing from inside the ship. She took a cautious step closer to it, and nudged its hand. To her surprise, the alien groaned, and the hand twitched. She jumped back, raising her fire extinguisher just in case, but nothing happened. It stopped moving. She stared at it… him? Her? There was no way to know if this thing even had gender, Gaz mused. She shoved the gender argument to the back of her mind, deciding on action. Ignoring all those times Dib ranted about 'Don't touch aliens yadda yadda,' she reached for his shoulders, and lifted him up from under his arms and pulled. He was a lot heavier than he looked. Gaz huffed, and pulled again, finally making some headway. When he was safely out of the ship and on the grass, she tried her best to gently put him on the ground, although she may have… dropped him a little due to exhaustion.

She took a few moments to breath, and then, the thought occurred to her that there may be… others. Walking back to the ship, she picked up her fire extinguisher, braced herself, and then peered inside through the broken glass. The cockpit of the ship was empty, save for two jumpseats, a silver box with the same insignia on it as the one on the outside of the spaceship, and a small robot, roughly the size of an eight year old. Itss head looked a little bashed in, and it had some stray wiring poking out from its body. Making another, possibly bad decision, Gaz carefully climbed down into the cockpit, and grabbed the robot, tucking it under one arm, and the metal suitcase under the other. Having collected her cargo, she tried to climb back out of the cockpit, but she slipped, and cut her hand on the glass.  
“Ow!” She hissed, pulling her hand back quickly. Blood seeped from the fresh cut on her palm, and she cursed herself for not being more careful. Finally emerging from the ship, she weighed what she had to do next. She very well could just walk away… but, the alien clearly needed help. She sighed, and placed the robot and suitcase on the grass, next to her discarded fire extinguisher. Making up her mind, she turned, and walked away from the ship towards her car. Getting in, she took a deep breath, turned it on, and then drove it up next to the ship. It occurred to her as she did this, that what she was doing was probably, deeply, very illegal. She needed to pick up the pace. She scrambled out of the car, and hurriedly tossed the robot and the suitcase into the trunk of her car. Next, her new passenger. He was still lying unmoving on the grass where she left him, and Gaz hoped he hadn’t died. Upon closer inspection, he was still alive, but Gaz also noticed that he was bleeding a dark green, and had blood stained on his hands as well. Not particularly wanting to get blood on the floor of her 2006 Nissan Sentra, she arranged her stargazing towel as best as she could on the backseat. After that was done, she went to do the hard bit, dragging him into the car. Once again she lifted him from under his shoulders, and he moaned a bit in his sleep, which she took as a good sign. She struggled to drag him the few feet to the car, and almost dropped him when she tried to get the backseat door open.

It took forever to get him in a position lying down in the backseat because he was so tall. She had to pull the passenger seat up and push his legs in just to fit him in there. Thankfully, she kept a blanket in the car, so she had something to cover him with in case a cop stopped her and asked if she happened to rescue any aliens recently…

Finally, with everything packed up and ready to go, Gaz began the hour long drive back to her apartment. The alien doesn't wake up the entire time, but he shifts and makes small noises here and there so he hasn't died, yet. She was so anxious about him suddenly waking that she gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. Pulling into the apartment parking lot, she realized that she had a problem. The next step is to somehow get the alien out of the car, and into her apartment, without anyone seeing him. Fuck.

Luckily for her, it's 3 AM so not many people should be out and about, but this is a college town, and everything is brightly lit. All the time. Unfortunately, there’s no real way around this situation, so she only had one option. Drag him up to her apartment and pray no one saw him. She was grateful that her parking spot is in a lesser lit area, farther from the building, but _unlucky_ for her it's farther from the building, which means she has to drag him even further. She sighed, and decided not to put it off any further. She opened the passenger door where his head was, and took a deep breath.  
“Alright, let’s do this.” She muttered to herself. Dragging him out of the car, she somehow managed to hook one of his arms over her shoulder. She then clumsily grabbed the blanket, and threw it over his head.  
“Yeah, that’s not suspicious at _all._ ” Hopefully this would fake the appearance of a drunk friend, but she wasn’t tall enough for this, so his boots were dragging on the ground as she walked. She huffed, and thanked her lucky stars that the lobby was empty, and that her complex had an elevator. She didn’t even want to think about stairs. Somehow, she made it all the way to her apartment without a single drunk freshman stumbling through the halls and annoying her. She fumbled with her keys one handed when she got to her door, partly leaning the alien against the wall so he didn’t fall. Finally, the door opened, and she dragged him into the apartment, kicking the door closed with her foot. Not wanting to get blood on any of her furniture, she carefully (as carefully as she could) deposited the alien on the floor of her bedroom, so she could go looking for towels. Quickly grabbing some towels from her bathroom, she speedwalked back to the bedroom to lay them out on the bed, to prepare for her new guest. With that done, the next step was simple. Get the alien onto the bed.  
“Why are you so _heavy!_ ” Gaz groaned as she lifted him, struggling to pull him over to the bed. First, she dropped his torso on the bed, and then lifted his legs to get him all the way on it. He had a strange sort of… backpack on his back, so she just laid him on his side, and finally, she was able to get a good look at him.

He does not look good, Gaz thought. There's a big gash on his right shoulder and she was pretty sure he leaked that dark green blood all over the apartment. She sighed as she realized she was going to have to clean the hallway tonight. He's wearing this long red shirt thing with an uneven hem so it's shorter at the sides but longer at the front and back. Black pants, black boots, black gloves, nice style. He doesn't have a nose, but there are two slits in the center of his face that probably do the same thing, and he has antennae. It must be some sort of... bug alien, she thinks. There's another gash on his head so he probably has a concussion, and strangely, more dark green blood all over the front of his shirt and hands, although she can’t find any more injuries.

Thankfully, she has a first aid kid, gifted by her ever-absent father when she moved out. The first step is to treat the wound on his shoulder. Unfortunately to get to it, she has to get the right sleeve off, so she pulls off his glove and cuts it off at the shoulder with the scissors from the first aid kit.

It’s not a pretty looking injury by any means, so she cleans it with alcohol and does her best to stitch it up with some surgical thread from the kit. The Alien doesn't seem to like this, as his face screws up and he grumbles in his sleep, but he has yet to wake up. After stitching the cut on his forehead as well, and making sure the rest of him is okay, she drapes the blanket from the car over him to keep him warm, and sets about cleaning the apartment hall and lobby. It’s annoying, but it must be done. Then, thankful for her skills with computers and the lax security in the apartment complex, she hacks in and deletes all the security camera footage.

Finally, just as the sun begins to rise, she curls up on the sofa, and falls asleep.


	3. Hello

'...evening's cool and quiet. Who would trade that hum of night for sun-' It's 10 am, and I woke up on my couch. I feel exhausted, and every muscle aches, I stink like sweat and copper. My hand stings and I want to go back to sleep, until the memories of last night pour in and I feel the adrenaline start up again. I need a drink, and to focus.

Okay, I'm most definitely skipping class today. I don't think I could focus on yet another art history seminar. For the first time I don't even remember where my gameslave is. I think it's in my car? Shit, I left the briefcase and the robot in the car, I need to get those… Focus! The alien is the first priority. I get up to go check on him and almost trip on the mop I left on the floor from last night.

"This is easy. Just… open the door." What if I open the door and he attacks me? What if he's dead and leaked acid or something all over the floor? Why is this so hard? I am not scared. I don't do scared. "You're acting like a baby, Gaz." I whisper to myself. "It's going to be fine." Ugh, what would Dib do? Probably perform an autopsy and call the news. Ew. No, Dib would want to initiate first contact and that's what I'm going to do. And with that and a deep breath, I open the door.

He's still asleep. All of that anxiety for nothing. I mentally smack myself in the head for making such a fuss out of this. Walking towards the bed, I notice that the bleeding seems to have stopped which is good. He seems to be sleeping peacefully, and his breathing seems normal. Good. Maybe he'll recover. He looks like he has large eyes, I wonder what they look like. Now that there's sunlight I can see that he has dozens of scars all over his arm and face. Some of them are quite small, like the thin scratch on his cheek, but there's one just above the collar of his shirt left of his neck that looks really bad. It looks like someone with a big knife tried to cut him in half longways. Jesus, and I can only see an arm and his face.

I wouldn't tell anyone I thought this of course, but I feel bad that he's going to have two more scars from the accident to add to his unfortunate collection. I'll do what I can, like regularly changing the bandages and cleaning with alcohol, but there's no way that's not going to scar. After doing all the necessary medical work, and the realization that sleeping beauty here is going to be here for a while, I decide it's a good idea to make him more comfortable.

I take off his other glove and place it aside, and finally take a good look at his hands. He only has three fingers on each hand, and they end in scary claws. This guy needs a manicure. Taking his boots off proved to be harder, as it took me a full five minutes to find the weird button on the inside of the boots that needed to be held for the material they're made of to loosen to get them off. I definitely want whatever they're made of though, it's sturdy as hell and would make some excellent combat boots.

After that, I pull the towels he's laying on out from underneath him, which causes him to shift a bit in his sleep, but not wake up, thank god. I spend the next ten minutes slowly but surely easing him under the blankets so he can sleep better, and so I can wash the towels, now that I know that his blood isn't corrosive acid. Taking a deep breath and a step back to admire my handiwork, he actually looks kind of peaceful. He can't lie flat because there's a sort of thing on his back, roughly the size of a large bowling bowl that's been cut in half and glued onto this guy. It's vaguely egg shaped and mostly silver with large reddish pink spots on it. Kind of like an alien ladybug backpack. I guess I'm glad the first alien contact isn't a gelatinous blob otherwise this would have been a lot harder. Messier too.

Okay, game plan. First off, I need to get the robot and the suitcase. Then I need to figure out some way to communicate with him in case he wakes up, because there's no telling how he communicates. Maybe his species uses weird antennae sign language to talk? I have no idea. I need to figure out how to show him that I'm not a threat, and that the human race is 'friendly'. Ha, I definitely don't believe that but I don't want to tell an advanced alien race that we're a bunch of assholes on a defenseless rock. Ready for new rulers, please! Not a great idea. I should also call Dib… Or maybe I shouldn't. Yeah, better not, I trust Dib to not immediately dissect an alien but I could be wrong about that. I think I'd better wait and see what type of 'person' this alien turns out to be.

Retrieving the suitcase and the robot proves much easier than E.T., as I can easily wrap the robot completely in a blanket and pretend I like metal suitcases. Plus, they aren't so tall they awkwardly drag on the ground… When I get to my apartment, I still make sure to delete that security camera footage too, just in case. Not quite sure what degree of secret law I'm breaking, but it's better safe than sorry. Next, I tidy up a bit. I'm not a super clean person, but I don't like blood everywhere and it may help me clear my mind. Thankfully his blood doesn't seem to stain the carpet as much as human blood does, so that's good. I even take some time to organize the small kitchen area, to do something that's 'normal'.

Finally, communication. It's roughly 1 pm now, and he still hasn't woken up so I don't have much to go on. Well, firstly he's obviously from an advanced species, so I should probably prove that humans aren't as stupid as I like to think they are. How do I go about doing… that?

Okay so people say that math is a universal language, but he won't be able to read our number system or pluses or minuses or anything like that so I'll need to think of something else. I can probably teach him the number system, it shouldn't be hard. So I take a piece of paper and start drawing. • 1 • • 2 • • • 3 and so on to ten. So now he'll be able to understand numbers.

Any idiot civilization can have numbers, we need to have math. If he understands math he can learn our addition and subtraction symbols by learning 3+2 5 and then teaching him the equal sign. Good, this is all good, and it may actually work! Next I can do multiplication and division, and maybe even exponents. Throw some theorems in there, and boom! Mathematics really is the universal language. Next to show higher understanding. I'll draw a rudimentary solar system to show him where he is, and copy the picture of our place in the galactic cluster from that voyager record. So in the event he doesn't die and isn't evil, he'll understand we're somewhat intelligent, understand where we are in the universe, and are kind enough to nurse him back to health. Hopefully I'm not making a huge mistake here.

With all that done, plus a few stock photos of people, I can finally relax and play my gameslave. I've almost gone a full twelve hours without it! That's definitely a first for me. I'm not even twenty minutes into the game when I hear something that is not the delightful sound of vampire piggies being murdered. My bed is creaking, which means my alien visitor is awake. Time for action. I gather all of my math and drawings for the alien, and make my way to the bedroom, on my way grabbing a knife just in case. I can hear him shifting in the bed, just on the other side of this door. I stick the knife through a belt loop on my back so it's out of sight, tuck my paperwork under my arm, psych myself up a bit, and open the door.

He's sitting on the bed, with his legs hanging over the side, and looking at the floor while leaning his head in his left hand. His eyes are closed, and his antennae are drooping toward the floor. He doesn't seem to notice me yet, so it's now or never.

"Hello?" His head shoots up and his eyes open. They're a brilliant ruby red, and are almost mesmerizing. In just a millisecond, they go from wide opened to narrowed as he draws his arms in.

"Aí kha al? Aíb kho kaí?" He growls at me, just as my hopes of him miraculously knowing English fly out the door.

"My name is Gaz I-" Stupid. He doesn't understand what you're saying. I take a step closer to him.

"Woí? Finú al tulkar úrsaíb fízh?" He cocks his head to the side, and I can definitely tell he's confused by something. "Woí lenzin thaíp khí el?" Confusion is better than instantly attacking me though.

"Gaz." I point to myself and say my name. "Gaz." I point to him. I think he gets it and he points at himself.

"Zim." He has a name! I think, unless he misunderstood what I was going for. I start to slowly walk towards him, and he doesn't seem to like this much. When I'm a few feet away from him, he holds out his hand in a sort of 'stop' gesture and says "Zas kaorsaoa ga. Úfisú az̀aíg." He looks serious, and annoyed.

"What?" I try my best to look confused so he gets the idea. "I don't understand."

"Úfisú az̀aíg. A rid no ʻe... Al finú suzh. 'E kaoplal…" He points behind me, and I carefully turn to see what he's pointing to. There's a mirror on the wall behind me, and I look back at him.

"What? What is it? I don't understand!" He looks a mix of annoyed and frustrated, and his left antennae keeps twitching. He points at the mirror again, points at his back, and says,

"Kaoplal." Then he makes a stabbing motion. Oh… the knife. He saw the knife in the mirror. Shit.

"It's okay! It was just in case! Look I'll get rid of it…" I carefully take the knife out of my belt loop and put it on the side table next to the bed, then immediately raise my hands and do a quick spin to show him I'm unarmed. "See? I'm sorry…" Why do I keep talking? He can't understand.

"Eífi. Git khí yú. Kaí suzh." He weakly smiles at me, so I guess he's forgiven me? I suppose he understands that I'm probably new to this whole alien discovery thing.

"Um, look, I brought you something to show you that we're not all idiots." I gently hands him the paper, and he takes them! I'm a natural with aliens. I sort of stand there awkwardly as he slowly shuffles through the papers. He doesn't look confused, and seems to be understanding things all right. When he gets to my basic drawing of our solar system, he points to Earth and looks at me.

"Khí el aíb kaí kho? Woí khí'e jeíú no el lenzin thaíp? Buch? El lenzin thaíp." He continuously points at Earth as he talks.

"Earth. That's Earth." I get close and point to the planet for emphasis. "Earth."

"Urth. Kaí kho fím Urth." He nods a little as he says it. I must say, this is going great, save for the knife accident.

"No, no, Earth." I laugh a little at how surreal this whole experience is for me. I never in a million years thought this would be an experience in my life. Not thinking clearly, I take a step closer that must've been a bit too fast for my new friend here, as the next thing I know, he's somehow retrieved the knife and is holding it right in front of my throat, and he's all of a sudden standing.

We stand like this for only a few seconds before he blinks and then drops the knife on the ground, and stumbles backward on the bed.

"Kaí kho ngaoa. Kaí finoízhú aíz daov…" He was so quiet I could barely hear him, but it sounded like an apology I think. I let out the breath I didn't even know I was holding and tried to keep my voice steady.

"It's okay. It's okay. Just don't do that again, okay?" I smile a bit at him and he smiles back. He's definitely not doing well, but he did just crash land on a remote planet and apparently has no idea where he is. I think I would be scared too…

"Let's try this again, I'm not going to hurt you." He looks at me, and I do my best to smile, and hold my hands in the air. "See? You're safe here." He nods and mumbles something again and I come closer and sit down on the bed next to him, and subtly kick the knife under the bed.

"Okay, so this is Earth-"

"Earth."

"Good! Nice job on the pronunciation!" When have I ever sounded like a cheery kindergarten teacher?

" 'Aos al." He smiles, and I think I just got my first alien thank you.

"So Earth," I point to the planet, "is part of the Solar System. Solar System." I gesture to the whole page as I say this.

"Solar Seestem."

"Eh, close enough." So now he knows another part of his galactic address. "Um, I can't remember what are local cluster is called but here's a picture of the Milky Way. Milky Way." I have a couple photos of the milky way, one of those artistic depictions of the galaxy from far away and a few real photos of what the center of the galaxy (the 'milky' part) looks like from Earth.

"Milky wae?" He actually laughs a bit, it's quiet and breathy and a bit happy. "Vaíluksínsaowi." He points at the picture of the milky way and says, "Milky wae, vaíluksínsaowi." He then points at me and them at himself and points back at the picture. I think I get what he's trying to say.

"You are also from… valooksinsaoo?" He laughs now, a bit more than the first time, yet still a bit nervous sounding and corrects me. I think we're over any knife related stressors.

"Vaíluksínsaowi."

"Right. Okay, that's good! That means you're probably not far from home." How to ask where he's from? I point to Earth and then myself. "Gaz, Earth." He nods, and his face almost says 'Well, duh.' "Zim….?" I point to him and gesture at the galaxy photo. This seems to have been a mistake on my part as his smile drops off his face and he just stares numbly at the pictures. I get it, not everyone has a great home life… but to be unhappy about the planet you're from? That's a new level of childhood trauma.

"Irk. Kaí kho thoí Irk." He says this lowly and quietly, and I can see his fists clench and his left antennae twitches. Wrong question then. At least I know three things about the visitor now, his name is Zim, his planet is in the same galaxy, and it's called Irk. Oh and he doesn't like his planet. Let's try something else.

"Gaz, Earth, human." I point to me, the planet, and then a stock photo of a crowd of people. "Gaz is one human. Humans live on Earth. Gaz, human, Earth. Understand?" He nods.

"Zim, Irk, Irkez. Irkezeích jeíchús fím Irk." Cool. Irkens or Irkezeich, live on Irk, and Zim is an Irkez. Irken. Same thing, probably. He seems to finally be taking in my room for the first time, and notices that his sleeve is gone, and inspects the injury on his arm.

"Finoízh al fin el?" He gestures to his injury.

"Oh yeah," I nod my head. "I'm sorry about the sleeve, you were bleeding…"

" 'Aos al. Al budoízh aokh li." I recognize what I think is the thank you from earlier, so I let him know how to respond.

"You're welcome." A smile from me brings a smile from him, and he repeats it back.

"Yourr wealcome. Alyeív sís."

"Alyeev sis." He smiles wider at this, showing off some rather impressive sharp teeth. They look like sharks teeth almost. Note to self, he probably eats a lot of meat.

"Why are you here?" I try to make this one understood by doing the best shrug and confused face I can manage, point at him, and then point at the picture of Earth. He looks furious and sad at the same time, which makes me feel guilty for even asking.

"Fírnoíri a kaí zhí repweí." He sighs, and points to himself, then the galaxy and says "Irk," then puts his hands together and pushes them out. Kind of like he's saying pushed away or nothing or gone.

"Is Irk gone?" To make my point, I find a stock video of a planet exploding and show it to him. To my surprise he laughs a bit and mumbles "Kaí'oích." He turns to face me, looks me in the eye, and shakes his head.

"Eídíp." So that must be the word for no. I imitate him, shake my head and say "No." back, so he'll learn my word for it.

"Eídíp, no." He says back. To distract from the situation, I decide to teach him yes as well.

"Yes," I vigorously nod my head. "No." I shake my head and make a disapproving look. His slight smirk returns, and he responds.

"Mi, yaes. Eídíp, no." The number one basic of the English language is now down. Last but not least, I'm going to teach him a greeting. I reposition my body so I'm fully facing him, and he does the same.

"Hello." I wave and smile as I do this. "My name is Gaz." Extending my right hand, I carefully and slowly grab his and then shake it. "It's nice to meet you." I let go of his hand and the point at him. "Your turn."

"Hello," He says. "My naem is Zim. Eets nice to meet yoo." He reaches forward and shakes my hand, and while I'm sure he doesn't really know what he said, today has been a good, albeit a little shaky, start.

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"So, what do you have here, sir?"

"Obviously it's a ship you idiot. Look at it." General Alex Drewey and a half dozen elite soldiers stand by the crash site watching as a top secret forensics team scours the area.

"Well, I see that, but where is the… occupant?"

"We don't know, forensics picked up some tire tracks over there, so obviously someone got it before we did. Goddamn it. I've spent years tracking any evidence of life on other worlds and the second some hard evidence lands some asshole has to take it for themselves. Have we heard anything in the news yet about any 'occupants?"

"No sir." Major Ian Johnson responds. "No phone calls, no pictures, nothing."

"So whoever took it had some brains."

"Sir!" A member of forensics called out to general Drewey. "We found blood, human blood."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So I know people may be annoyed at the language barrier, but I've always been a stickler for realism, so I'm going full throttle realistic.


	4. Kaoveí

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, but I'm getting rid of the water weakness. I love it as much as everybody else, but I'm striving for realism, and it just won't work in this story. I'm so sorry! Also, the Irken language I'm using is a real conlang I created for this story! Everything Zim says are actual words with grammar and conjugation.

It's been two days since I rescued Zim, and somehow I feel like I'm sliding into a new normal. He's good at learning languages, and has already learned a lot of basics like hello, how are you, hungry, thirsty, me, you, etc. I'm even learning a bit of his language as well. I call it Irken because it's easier for me to say, but he calls it Irketsí. I'm probably the first person in human history to learn an alien language. My favorite word so far is sínsaowi, which means star. It's kind of fun to say, not that anyone knows I think that.

He's been spending the past two days trying to fix his robot, which is apparently named Gir. Gir still hasn't powered on and I don't think I or anyone on Earth has the tools he needs to fix him, but he seems to be making do. He hasn't so much as touched his suitcase yet, which is a little odd. I figured he would have clothes or something in there that he would need, but he told me he didn't have any spare clothes, which meant _I_ had to go shopping for men's clothes for my alien roommate at Kohls.

Which leads me to now. I just got back from the grocery store getting more food for us. He eats like a horse and seems to love sweet things… so far he's a big fan of donuts and pixie sticks. Unfortunately that means my grocery bill has just doubled. After putting away the groceries in the kitchen, I go to check on Zim.

He's currently sitting on my couch, with Gir almost completely disassembled on the coffee table, and he's fiddling with some sort of motherboard. He's wearing this new black hoodie I got him, and some new jeans that are too big around the waist and not long enough. Figures they don't make clothes for weird lanky alien men. I had to get him really big shirts and hoodies and whatnot to fit over his weird backpack, that he then cut holes in all his new clothes for.

He told me it's called a PAK, and told me what it stood for but I didn't understand that part. As far as I can gather it's some sort of weird cybernetic extension of him. It has all these crazy spider arms inside of it that have attachments like welding torches or screwdrivers, which while it helps with Gir, apparently it's not enough. I spend a second just observing him focus. When he concentrates, his right antennae is lifted just a little bit higher than the left one, and he tilts his head just a bit to the left as he works. It's honestly fascinating and oh so weird that I have an alien fixing a robot in my living room.

"Hey Zim. How are you? How is Gir?" I'm careful to speak slowly and enunciate all my consonants, so he has an easier time understanding me. He looks up as soon as I speak, and whenever this happens I swear there's always a second where he doesn't recognize me, and I'm a little bit uncomfortable with the look in his eyes in that second. When it clears, he smiles and I can relax.

" 'Aongaothao, Gaz." _Hello._ "Zim is good. Gir is no good. He… ajie eír." He puts down his tools, looks at me, and pinches his fingers together with just a small gap in between them as to say 'little'. "Good," he says as he shows me the gesture. He then tilts his head side to side, as if he's saying 'so-so.'

"Small good?" I repeat the gesture back to him.

"Mi! Eh, yes." Okay, so Gir is getting better. Somehow. Right now Gir is a pile of parts on my coffee table, with the only fully recognizable features being his face plate. I've got to hand it to Zim, if he's able to rebuild a robot with absolutely none of the materials he needs he's got to have some brains.

"When will he work?" I turn my phone screen on and off so he can understand the meaning of the last word. He shrugs.

"I no….. What is word?"

"You don't know? Know." I point to and tap my head. This is how we've been learning, and teaching each other. It's not a fast process by any means, but it's working. Unfortunately for us, Duolingo does not support Irken.

He seems to like learning, and he smiles whenever he gets a word right, just like a little kid would. He told me that he speaks many languages, so maybe he was an interpreter or something on his home planet.

Sitting in silence and watching him work is almost better than my gameslave. Almost. All of the technology inside Gir is simply mind blowing… Now if Gir was made into a gameslave, christmas would come early for me! I bet it would be the faster running gaming console on the planet…

"Gaz?" Zim's voice broke me out of my gameslave fantasy. I was sitting on the chair next to the couch to watch him work and play my game to relax.

"Yeah?"

"Have humans star?"

"What? Have humans star?"

"Yes, have humans star?" This time when he says it, he points at me then at the ceiling. Humans star. Humans up to star? Have humans gone to star? Oh!

"Are you talking about space travel?" I go sit on the couch next to him and google some pictures of the shuttle program, astronauts, moon landing and show him. "Space travel?" He smiles weakly at the pictures and thanks me.

" 'Aos al." _Thank you._ He sighs and shakes his head. "You space is… small. No small, you space is… what is word?"

"Beginner? Baby?" I taught him the word baby yesterday.

"Yes, baby, beginner." He laughs a bit at this. "No beginner space fix Gir."

"Oh, you need more advanced parts for Gir. Better parts, right?"

"Yes." He sounds so dejected at this.

"I'm sorry, Zim." I'm actually a little surprised at myself for being sorry. I normally don't feel bad for people, but he seems to have some serious baggage and issues right now and I understand that.

"Git khí yu." _It's okay._ "Humans is one here Earth?"

"Yeah, there are no aliens here." I make sure to shake my head as I talk, then point to him for emphasis. " _You_ are the first… that we know of." He mulls this over for a few seconds, seemingly weighing some invisible pros and cons.

"Good. No Irkezeích." He says, devoid of any tone of emotion, then immediately turns back towards Gir's motherboard and goes back to work.

"What? I mean, I get that you don't like your planet, but don't you want to be rescued?" I lean in a bit as if to comfort him, and soften my voice.

"Don't you want Irk to bring you home?" Suddenly, he slams the motherboard down on the coffee table so hard I'm shocked it didn't break.

"No! No go home. Irk is no home." He looks me dead in the eye. Narrowing his eyes and with a grimace on his lips. "No, Irk is no good!" He snarls at me, making me lean back away from him. "Irk is… hungry." He leans in, and points to the scar on his neck that is just peeking out from his hoodie. His voice is low and he spits his words out through clenched teeth.

"Irk is, Irk is aomu, chosaolkeí to _kaoveí_." I don't know what those words mean, but with the way he said them… they don't sound good.

"Kaovei?" I whisper. "What is kaovei." We stare at each other for a few seconds that feel like hours, the tension so thick I could taste it. Then, in the blink of an eye, he takes a screwdriver from the coffee table and stabs it into his hand.

"Holy shit!" _Holy shit holy shit he's insane!_ I almost fall out of the couch from what just happened while I watch him calmly remove the screwdriver, wipe it on his jeans and put it back on the coffee table. It's not that deep, thankfully, but it's beginning to bleed. He points at the blood seeping from the cut, and he suddenly looks so much older.

"Kaoveí." He whispers. _Blood._ Irk is officially on my brand new list of never-go-there-for-vacation. With the shock of what just happened dying down, I manage to get the strength to go and grab some paper towels and alcohol wipes to clean the cut, because there is no way that screwdriver was sanitary. He begrudgingly holds out his hand for me as I come back.

"You shouldn't have done that." I quietly say as I wipe the cut clean. "That was seriously overdramatic." Jesus christ, I sound like someone scolding a teenager. I'm not going to let him know that by doing that he made his point painfully clear, but I don't want him to do it again. If he keeps doing shit like that I'm going to have a heart attack.

"Ngaoa. Sorry. You know. You want know." He actually sounds sorry, and tired at the same time.

"Do you mean, I _need_ to know?"

"Yes. Irk is no good. No good."

"I understand." After applying a clean band-aid to the back of his hand, he flexes his fingers and picks up the motherboard. He fiddles with it a bit, but he doesn't seem to be interested in it anymore. Feels to me like he wants to melt into the sofa.

"Zim… where will you live now?" He doesn't say anything at first, so I don't think he understood. Maybe I was being too quiet. I was about to try again when he spoke.

"Earth. No Irkezeích here." He nods, then whispers quietly to himself. "A'e ú í mí aokh li, kaí kho veíg thoí git." I caught a bit of that, something about life, the word I, and him. More things about Irk that are not boding well to me. So, the first alien on earth wants to stay here. Cool.

"Okay, you do realize you're green, right? There are no aliens on Earth. You will really need to blend in." He can't go walking around looking like an emaciated cucumber.

"Green?" He looks at me confused. Oh, we haven't established colors yet. How on Earth (no pun intended) do you teach someone colors? Uh, duh, Gaz. With coloring pencils and some paper.

"Wait here Zim." I go and grab my art supplies and hurry back to the coffee table for our next English lesson. Pulling out a green pencil similar to Zim's skin color, I color a small block and then point at it. "Green." Then I point at his hand. "Green."

"Ah!" He says. "Green, _non_ , I is green." I guess Non is Irken for green.

"Yeah, but that's a problem. You're green, humans are not green." He nods in understanding then smiles.

"That is no bad! I fix." He waves his good hand a bit as if his worries just floated away.

"How… do you fix _green skin_." He definitely is crazy. What, is he going to dye his entire body? What about his eyes? And his antennae?

"Khodajeítwoírní." He smiles wider and exposes those razor sharp teeth.

"What?" I'm getting the feeling that Irken is one of those annoying languages with some ridiculously long words.

"Khodajeítwoírní… Human picture." Now I'm even more confused.

"I don't understand. What do you mean?" He sighs with frustration at being unable to get his point across. He points across the room at a picture of my family.

"Picture?"

"Yeah, that's a picture." He then points at a lamp.

"What is word?" As he asks, he motions his hand away from the lamp, as if simulating travel from it.

"Uhh… Light?"

"Yes! Picture, light, human." Picture light human… picture through light? Like a projection? Oh! He's talking about a hologram! I quickly google hologram and show him a scene from star wars as an example.

"This? A hologram?" He half nods, but he's not paying attention anymore. He's staring intently at R2-D2.

"Yes, yes… hologram." He mumbles. "Robot?" He points to R2-D2. "Human robot? I fix Gir human robot."

"Oh no… you can't. It's not real." He just stares at me. "Um okay. Real vs. not real. Okay Zim, I am _real._ " I gesture to myself and poke my stomach. "You are _real_." I point at him. I then doodle myself on the piece of paper with wings and say, " _Not_ real. Understand?" He nods slowly, and frowns.

"No human robot?"

"No, sorry." He slumps back into the couch.

"Neírsikh." That sounded like a curse word. "Nog kha al humans ad aoa?" He turns to

look at me and smiles, but his tone says he's complaining about something.

"Don't be so rude! I know we're no top of the line intergalactic species, but we haven't killed each other in a nuclear war yet, so there's that." He stares at me for a second and I can tell I lost him.

"Woí?" _What?_ He laughs slightly and shakes his head. "So fast. Slow, pleez! I no understand." He can't say the word please quite correctly, but at least he's beginning to learn human manners at least.

"Yeah, sorry. My bad. How can I put this? I'm sorry humans are baby-brains." He laughs, so he gets it.

"You no baby. You… kha z̀aín. No baby, what is word?"

"Um, adult?" I show him a picture of a human life cycle and point to the adult.

"No, it is _z̀aín._ " He looks frustrated and then just waves his hand as if to say 'nevermind.'

"Yeah, you're right. We can come back to that one another day." With that, Zim goes back to working on Gir. I'm honestly impressed by how well he seems to be taking all of this. I mean, trapped on a strange world where no one can understand you, it's a miracle he hasn't had a full blown mental breakdown yet. Well, he did stab himself with a screwdriver, but I have a bad feeling that that may be because of some underlying home-planet trauma.

He's not that bad of a roommate though. It's only been two days, I know, but he's relatively clean, and has yet to spread Gir's parts _all_ over my apartment. He even offered to sleep on the couch from now on since it's my apartment after all. He's a lot taller than my couch though, so I bought an air mattress online that should be here soon. The guy is like a beanpole, color included. He must be at least six foot six, so the couch can not be all that comfortable. Besides, it's not like he's leaving any time soon.

It's weird that an alien from another planet can be so… human. Ish. He eats, he sleeps, he doesn't leak toxic goo. If I was blind or had some extremely strong rose-colored glasses I could pretend I had some foreign exchange student living with me. Figures the only roommate I can actually tolerate would be an alien. Best of all, he has the sense to not interrupt me when I'm playing on my gameslave.

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"Agent Darkbootie, this is Agent Mothman reporting in. I detected some atmospheric activity over the appalachian mountains last night and when I went to investigate yesterday, the area was cordoned off by the military. I believe… that an alien crash landed there!" It was textbook obvious, my atmospheric scanners picked up an object coming in, and when I went to check it out the next day, I couldn't get any closer than two miles away from it!

"Agent Mothman," the dark figure on the other side of the screen sighed. "I got your report this morning, and did some investigating. Even the government channels are calling it a downed aircraft. It was apparently a helicopter that happened to be carrying top secret material."

"Oh sure. Why do you believe the government? This organization's entire _purpose_ is to go against the government!" I can't believe he's denying this even now, it's so obvious!

"Mothman, I'm not talking about the press releases. Agent Tunafish hacked into government radio channels and listened in, because you're right, this does sound suspicious. Unfortunately for you, all channels were clear and normal, with regular communication about retrieving air missile blueprints."

"But sir-"

"It's useful intel for us, so I guess I can thank you for that, but yet again, this one is a false alarm."

"Sir, if you could just-"

"Mothman! For crying out loud it has been years of you calling this agency with barely anything to show for it! Just, take a break, okay? And quit calling me while I'm trying to have my breakfast!" The screen shut off.

Those… Idiots! Probably one of the best examples of alien life fell right on to Earth and these fools believed the government coverup? It's obvious that they knew that someone would try to listen in and they planned for that. It's the government! Coverup is what they're best at! And I won't be able to get anywhere near the site for ages, and by then all the evidence will be gone. What if the alien escaped and assimilated into the human population? What if the world is just a few short days away from alien takeover? What then?

Breathe. Focus, and breathe. There's gotta be some proof, somewhere. Sure, the radio channels are seemingly reporting that a helicopter crashed, but I know better. Something _entered_ the earth's atmosphere, and last I checked helicopters can't fly into space. Well, maybe a super secret government helicopter… No! It can't be that simple. I have prepared for something of this magnitude my entire life and I refuse to let this go without a fight!

Okay. So the object entered the atmosphere here… and then landed here… approximately at 1:30 am on Friday morning, but the government reported the crash to be at 6 am, probably to make a helicopter flight more plausible or something. Now, unless my calculations are wrong, which they never are, that means the government is almost five hours off from the actual crash time. Which means they either aren't able to understand the data the same way I am or they're lying to cover it up!

The only reason they would lie like that, is to hide the landing of a spacecraft!

"Yeah! It _is_ a cover up!" I yelled to the empty space of my apartment. "Well, I already knew that, but still."

The government would never tell the general population that aliens have landed on earth, so it's my job to set the truth free! First things first, I'm going to need to find a government radio channel that's talking about more than a downed helicopter.


	5. Spaghetti

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise we'll get a Zim POV soon, but unfortunately it would reveal too much at this point!

I hate this facility. It's creepy as hell, and the light in the break room always flickers once every two minutes. I know because I've timed it. There's always some weird gunk on the floor outside of room 407, and I swear Doctor Norton is some sort of psychopath with the way he's always skulking around everywhere. The atmosphere here is just wrong, somehow. Although that could be because all the air here has to be pumped down and recycled, making it feel a bit stale.

I know I should feel lucky to work here. I know things most people would never even believe to be true, and once upon a time this was my dream job, but it didn't end up being what I wanted to be. I thought it would somehow be more… magical or something. Silly as it is, a bit like a men in black facility. Unfortunately all I got was bitter coffee and beige walls.

Then, my boring days suddenly seemed over when a ship crashed in a field near the Appalachian mountains early Friday morning. It's 7 a.m. on Monday morning, and I report to room 342.

"Good morning, major Johnson." General Alex Drewey is standing in front of a team of scientists and other generals, all sitting comfortably around a large, circular white table. "I trust you had a good night's sleep last night, even with all the crazy going on." He cracks a smile, and a few of the personnel in the room chuckle softly with him.

"Sir, yes sir I did. Thank you. I apologize for my lateness, you know how traffic can get." Yeah, that sounds like a lame excuse and it normally is, but it was honestly traffic this time.

"That's all right son," Don't call me son. "Just take a seat right over there, and we can get started!" I take my seat at the round table, and start looking at the dossier left for me.

"Alrighty then!" The general starts. He has a loud booming voice that captures everyone's attention. "As most of you know, a ship was recovered not seventy miles north of here that is not of this world. No occupants, alive or dead, were recovered at the site, and we are still looking for any trace of that occupant. In the meantime, let's review what we did find. Doctor Prentiss, you go first."

Prentiss is a skinny woman, with long brown hair that she keeps in a tight and matronly bun. Her labcoat always has three pens tucked in the left pocket, two blue, and one red. She specializes in microbiology, I believe.

"Sir, the microbiome found at the scene is absolutely fascinating. I have discovered some microbes that aren't even carbon based! It's an incredible find, and while they are obviously not the main occupant of the ship, it's safe to say that the bacteria inside the ship is not from Earth, and therefore concrete proof of life on other planets." She smiles a tight lipped and forced smile at the slight clapping from her colleagues and sits back down.

"Well, that's good Prentiss, but I think it's safe to say the ship itself is proof enough, isn't it?" General Drewey scoffs a bit and continues. "Anyway, good work. Okay, who's next? Did we find anything interesting inside the ship?"

"Sir, yes sir! Colonel Brigain reportin' sir! Inside the ship some packs of what seem to be emergency food and water were recovered. This indicates that the creature eats and drinks, and doesn't just absorb electricity for energy. The ship also has a small waste disposal room, sir, indicatin' further that it has a basic digestive tract, jus' like humans."

Brigain is an asshole, if you ask me. He's constantly asking Carol from accounting out for drinks at the base diner and he never gets that she's married.

"We also recovered what we think is a weapon, sir." Brigain continued.

"Ahh yes! The pistol we found." Drewey clasps his hands together excitedly. "Has anyone figured out how it works yet?" Silence in the room. "Oh come on, somebody has got to have fiddled with it a bit."

"Sir," Brigain stands back up. "We honestly don't know what we're doin' wrong. It has a trigger, and no visible safety, but it won't fire. I think it somehow needs to be loaded, and the lab boys think maybe only the _occupant_ can get it to work via some DNA coding or somethin'."

"Well then, it looks like we need the occupant! Good work colonel, you can sit back down. Now the obvious question then is why did this occupant leave it's craft without bringing protection? Which leads me to my favorite bit of evidence. Doctor Norton, if you would tell the class what you found?"

Doctor Norton, the creepy bastard, doesn't fit the creepy stereotype. He looks a bit like a stock photo, clean shaven, with well trimmed and combed back brown hair. The only thing out of place about him is the dark circles under his eyes, as if he never sleeps.

"As the ladies and gentlemen can see in the photos in their dossiers, the windshield of the craft was shattered on the right, or starboard side of the ship. Now, this could have been from the occupant smashing the glass on the inside to get out if whatever mechanism designed to allow access and entry was broken, however a small detail near the dashboard of the ship begs to differ. As you can all see, a small amount of human blood was found on the edge of the broken windshield." Sure enough there's a close up picture of a few drops of blood on a jagged piece of windshield glass.

"This means one of two things. Either this person stumbled across the ship and explored after the occupant left and before we got there, or, somebody helped the occupant escape. There were some tire marks that drove as close as four feet away from the craft, which I think was our human friend loading any and all items from the ship into their car.

I took the liberty of testing this blood, and I'm pleased to tell you all, that we are looking for a caucasion woman, blood type O+, and possibly has hazel, or blue eyes. Whether or not situation one or situation two occured, I would still love to interview this woman, see if she saw anything. Right now we have a team narrowing down all the women within a two hundred mile radius, who fit that unfortunately vague description. Once that's done we'll start the interviews. Any questions?" He smiles a strangely unnerving smile as he takes his seat.

"Excellent!" General Drewey definitely seemed pleased by this news. "Now I know I'm not using the scientific method here, doctor, but I'm at liberty to think that this woman helped the occupant. Think about it this way, a normal person finds a spaceship and the next thing you know the pictures are all over the new york post! However, this person was there and hasn't said anything to anyone? Seems strange for someone with nothing to lose, unless they have the occupant. If we find her, we'll find our occupant."

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I have never in my life had a slower school day than today. It's the first day I've left Zim alone in my apartment, and I gave him strict instructions to make as little noise as possible. I don't know if any of my neighbors know my routine or would think any of it if they did hear something, but you never know how observant someone could truly be. I want to go home and make sure he doesn't blow up the unit or something.

Ugh, I don't know why I'm so worried, he's probably just working on Gir like he does every day, and I'm getting worked up over nothing. Plus this art history class is so boring, I have a theory that Mrs.. Macecevic is secretly dead and nobody has noticed, and her droning voice is the result of her soul refusing to give up and leave already! Something like that anyway.

I'm considering writing out the script for Hamlet in wingdings out of sheer boredom when finally the last class of the day is released with a homework assignment I didn't catch, but I'll look it up later.

Trying to get home as fast I can without breaking the speed limit is a new struggle for me. Usually I don't give a shit about what cops think, but I need to be completely under the radar all the time right now. Which means no fights, speeding, or threats… Damn. After parking in my wonderfully creepy designated parking spot and making it to my apartment, I can smell it before I open my door. Smoke.

Frantically unlocking my door and rushing inside, I follow the smoke to the kitchen, and standing out of sight in the hall, I can see Zim… cooking? Not successfully at all, as he's seemed to burn whatever it is he's trying to make. I'm glad he wasn't burning down the house though. He's standing in front of the stove sautéing a fresh batch of sausages and some assorted fruits and vegetables? I think he's sautéing apples, which is an odd choice if you ask me. There's a lot of odd things out on the countertop, like pickles and vodka, which is probably how he burned the last batch.

I'm not particularly surprised he's trying to cook, as he's watched me do it enough the past few days to understand how the appliances work, I think, but he definitely didn't grasp earth cuisine. He looks focused and stressed at the same time, so I think I'd better give him a hand.

"Hey Zim, I-" I step towards the kitchen doorway and barely start talking before he twists sharply and flings something in my direction. Thanking whatever god or mystical force there is out there for my fast reflexes from years of my father's and dib's experiments, I have just enough time to slam myself against the hall wall and see a _fork_ embedded in the wall behind me. The handle part is in the wall. Zim threw a fork hard enough to stick the handle in the wall. Shit.

"Khúv!" Zim's voice starts rapidly approaching where I'm standing in the hall, and he sounds panicked. "Gaz, kaí kho ad ngaoa!" _I'm sorry!_ "Úshúj kaí! Kaí finoíchú aíz daov!" I'm staring at the fork and only notice he's in front of me when he shakes my shoulders. He's speaking so fast I can barely tell the words apart.

"Khí al yú?" _Are you okay?_ "Gaz, khí al yú?"

"I-I'm okay Zim." Holy shit. "You have _got_ to stop doing that, okay? No more… of that." I point to the fork in the wall. He turns his head around to look at the fork and winces, his antennae flattening themselves against the back of his head. He turns back and sputters and shakes his head at me.

"Kaí finoíchú aíz daov!" _I..._ something. "Al vaí daov míg kaí! Kaí finoíchú aíz daov!"

"Zim, slow down! It's okay!" I put my hands on his shoulders to get him to stop. "It is okay." I say carefully and make sure to keep eye contact. "It's okay. Yes?" His breathing finally starts to stabilize and only then do I realize how hard he was gripping my shoulders when he starts to release the pressure.

"It is okay?" He breathes at me, and nods his head a bit. "Yes. It is okay."

"Yeah, Zim. Everything is going to be okay. Look, go sit down." I point to the couch. "I'll fix the kitchen."

"No! I fix the kitchen." He finally lets go of my shoulders and takes a step back. "I cook." He smiles ever so slightly, as his left antennae constantly twitches, which seems to be the way he expresses anxiety.

"Um, yeah, I see that… Do you like to cook?" I cannot believe we are having a conversation about cooking right now.

"I do not know." He laughs a bit. "It is new."

"You have _never_ cooked before and you decided to try it for the first time while I was gone? Why would you do that?" I find myself smiling a bit at the absurdity of it all. He shrugs a bit and the twitch in his antennae gets worse.

"I want good for you. You cook for me, I cook for you."

"You want good… you want to do something nice for me?" His antennae perks up at this.

"Yes, nice!" He smiles then tilts his head. "I want learn do good cook." He wants to learn how to cook. My alien roommate wants to learn how to cook. Okay then.

"Well, um, first can you get the fork out of the wall?" I point at the wall, and smile to reassure him. His antennae flatten against his head, he mumbles a quick 'sorry' in Irken, and plucks the fork out of the wall seemingly with zero effort. After dinner, we really need to talk about his violent responses to being startled. I don't want to die because Zim can't handle sudden appearances of people. Although, I'm a bit impressed with his accuracy of fork throwing. When we get over the surprise hurdle, I'm going to have to have him teach me that.

"Alright, let's see what we're dealing with here in the kitchen." I walk in the kitchen and stop in front of the stove and his… food creation. Gordon Ramsey eat your heart out. "Here, give me the fork. Don't want any more accidents, okay?" He sheepishly hands me the fork and his antennae twitches.

"Sorry Gaz…"

"It's okay Zim. Really. We'll talk about it later, okay?" I make eye contact and give him a nod so he understands.

"Okay, that is good."

"So, Zim. What are you trying to cook here?" I can't help but laugh. It looks like the aforementioned sausage and apples, plus what I think may be… grapes?

"Food? Meat and good food. I think it is good to eat?" He looks rather embarrassed, and my laughter definitely isn't helping him, but it's a bit nice that he wanted to help.

"And that?" I point to the charred saucepan that was haphazardly deposited in the sink, still slightly smoking. He laughs, the first full-hearted laugh I've heard from him this entire time. It's deep, like his voice, with a touch of breathiness in it. It's the kind of laugh that makes someone else smile when they hear it.

"One try. No good."

"Yeah, no kidding. Let's start from scratch."

"What is scratch?"

"Oh, beginning. New food this time. You want something with meat, right?" He smiles wide at this.

"Yes! Meat and pixie sticks."

"Ha, okay then. But the pixie sticks are dessert, er, after-dinner. Okay?" Raising my eyebrow and smirking, he chuckles in response and nods in agreement.

"Well, with that in mind, let's get started!" I tie my hair back for this cooking exercise. I've let it get long, for me that is, and it's a few inches past my shoulders. I still keep it in the violet hue I've had since middle school though, I think it suits me.

"I'm sorry to get rid of your effort, but can you clean this up a bit?" I gesture towards the stove and the sink. I don't think I've taught him half of those words yet, but he gets the idea. Two of his spider arms emerge from the PAK to help him clean. I'm almost jealous, to be honest. They look incredibly useful. After we clear up his attempt at cooking the first time, I begin to pull out the ingredients for what we're going to make now.

"We're going to make spaghetti." I say as I grab some peppers from the fridge.

"Spaggetee?"

"No, spaghetti." I sound it out slowly for him. "It's easy, you'll be able to do it without me."

"Good!" He's examining the vegetables I've lined up on the counter as I go to open the cabinet where I keep noodles.

"Zim? Could you get that for me?" I'm only 5'5", and haven't made spaghetti in a while, which means the idiotic me of the past that overstocked spaghetti last time I bought it put it on a shelf that's annoying and uncomfotable to reach. Green Giant over here gets it with such ease it almost irritates me, but the smile he gives as he hands it to me pushes that irritation down.

"Thanks, good. Okay first, we're going to need a big pot of water." Once we get the pot going, and I teach Zim how to properly salt (just a pinch!) I can start teaching him the hard part.

"So, I'm going to teach you how to cut vegetables, cool?"

"Cool." I cut an onion in half, and slowly demonstrate how to properly dice it for the sauce, then I cut a pepper in half and show him how to deseed and chop one half.

"Alright, I'm going to give you this knife now, and you will do the same thing. Be. Careful." He nods vigorously, his left antennae twitches, and he carefully accepts the knife. I slowly take a few steps back, just as a precaution.

This man is a dicing wizard. His first few cuts into the onion are hesitant, and thankfully he's holding it the right way with his fingers curled under, just like I showed him. I also notice for the first time that he's left-handed. I wonder if that's more common on his planet or if he's rare, just like on earth. Once he seems to get the hang of it, he dices the onion faster than I ever could, then moves on to the peppers and the rest of the vegetables.

"I am done!" He smiles as he steps away from his work for me to inspect.

"It looks really good! I'm actually impres-" I turn around to look at Zim as I'm talking. "Will you stop that?" I smile so he knows I'm joking, but he was tossing the knife up and down in his left hand while he waited for what I was going to say. As soon as the words leave my mouth, he catches it, flips it around his hand so he's holding it by the blade, and hands it back to me.

"Sorry, it is… me." I think he means habit.

"Again, it's okay. We'll talk about it later." We finish making the sauce, with almost no cooking mishaps (Zim almost over salted the sauce) and I get to have _him_ pour the spaghetti through the collinder, which means I don't have to do it! I show him how to serve himself, and then we sit down at my tiny breakfast table/dining nook and he is taught the wonders of parmesan. Thank god he has not had any insane allergic reactions yet. Somehow.

"This is delicious, nicely done, Zim!" Chowing down into the food makes me realize I haven't eaten all day, which probably makes the food ten times better. Zim already knows how to use a fork, albeit he holds it differently than humans would, but it's not surprising that other planets would invent something similar to eat food with.

"Thank you, but it is you I thank. You teach me." It hits me all of a sudden how surreal this all is. I'm sitting in my kitchenette, eating spaghetti with an alien, who I just taught how to cook. It's so much I just start to laugh. I must look insane to him, this goth chick who's cracking up over a plate of spaghetti, and somehow that just makes the situation all the more funny!

"What… Am I good?" He looks a little nervous, which is completely understandable.

"No, no, it's good Zim," I manage to choke out. "It's just that this is so weird!"

"Weird?" He's starting to smile now.

"Yeah! I'm having dinner with an alien! That's weird!"

"I am eat with human!" He starts laughing too, and the two of us idiots sit there and laugh over spaghetti and the absurdity of life. I haven't felt this happy in a long time, it feels… nice. My life has been flipped completely upside down and I've almost _died_ a few times, but I'm under a small sense of ease, even still. I feel that peaceful, just like I do when I stargaze. As if I want to frame this feeling and keep it forever.

Slowly, we're able to get over ourselves and get back to eating. I still feel the craziness of this all tickling at me, and we both quietly chuckle into our bowls here and there. Then, Zim breaks the silence.

"How you learn?" He asks me. He's set his fork down in his bowl, set his hands on the table and interlocked his fingers.

"How did I learn to cook?"

"Yes."

"Oh. My mother taught me." I don't like talking about her, but it's not like he's going to relay this information to anyone else.

"Mother? What is word?" He leans in and tilts his head, just like when he's focused.

"A mother is… a mother…" I don't know how to explain it with words, so I grab the grocery receipt from yesterday and a spare pen on the counter. Leaning in across the table, I draw a basic family tree with a mother, father, and child.

"This is a baby, a child, right?" He nods. "Then this is a father, and this is a mother. Understand? They are parents."

"Oh." That's it. Now he's staring at his pasta without saying anything, his hands still folded in front of him.

"Do you have a mother? Parents?" He frowns.

"No."

"I'm sorry." He looks up at me and squints his eyes, like he's struggling with what to say.

"I do no want talk." He looks back at his food.

"I understand." That can wait for another day. However… "We need to talk about the fork." I shake my fork for emphasis. "It's okay, I'm not mad." I have never smiled this much in my whole life, but he wouldn't understand otherwise.

"I am sorry, sorry."

"I know you're sorry, and it's okay, but you need to not do it again." He avoids eye contact and seems to be looking at the other side of the room. "Why did you throw the fork? Or the knife on the first day? I'm not going to hurt you." He huffs and rests his head in his left hand, propping his elbow on the table.

"I know, you is good." I am not good, but do go on. "I am sorry, it is me. I do no want."

"Is it a reflex?" He squints and his antennae twitches.

"What is word?"

"A reflex. Look." I pull my chair out from under the table and cross my legs so he can see my knees. I hit myself in the knee, and my leg juts out. "Reflex. Understand?"

"Yes." He looks so sad. "It is reflex."

"Well, that's not great. We're going to have to work on that."

"Okay. I no want no good to you." He smiles ever so slightly. "You is good." I don't want to stress him out any more than he already is right now, so I make a note to bring it up later, and to not let myself out of his sight for now to avoid any further mishaps.

"Let's just enjoy dinner, okay?" He laughs and leans to the left.

"Okay, that is good."


	6. Take a Break

Zim and I are sitting in the living room. Zim's on the couch, I'm on a chair opposite of the coffee table, and Gir is scattered between us. A successful first dinner has been followed by this awkward confrontation. We need to decide what to do about his aggressive responses, and I've wracked my brain trying to think of a way to ensure a long life for myself. He looks stressed as hell, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. The telltale sign of the twitching left antennae. I know that there's something that he's reacting to that's causing these… accidents, which is why I'm willing to let it slide and help him. I've never offered this kind of support to someone before, and definitely not an alien, so all I can hope for is that I don't make anything worse.

"Zim… do you know _why_ you keep doing that?" I ask a question that I already know the answer to, just so we can start going somewhere with this.

"Yes." Yeah, I knew that.

"Can you tell me why?"

"No." I feel like pulling my hair out. I want to help him, for some reason, but I'm beginning to sense that he has a three mile brick wall built around him to keep others out. Sounds annoyingly familiar...

"Zim, why not?" He frowns and turns away from me.

"Kaí finú'oích daov!" _I don't want to._ He sighs and nods his head down. "It is no good. I no want to say." I'm sure it can't be that bad, but I don't want to press the subject.

"Fine. But we still have to stop your reaction. Your reflex, of it. Right?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Just to be clear though, you threw the fork because you were startled by me."

"Yes. I do not know it is you."

"Right, got it. So you attack when you think there is someone who is not me?" He nods.

"I do not want to attack you."

"I know that. Look, let's try something." I grab a small couch pillow from behind me and hold it up. "See this? This is going to be the fork, or the knife, or whatever." I toss it to him, and he catches it with ease and looks at me, perplexed.

"Okay…"

"I'm going to go into the bedroom." I point behind him. "Then I'm going to come out and try to surprise you. Try not to throw that." He squints at me and then lifts the pillow with his left hand.

"This is no fork or knife. It is baby." He shakes the pillow a bit, and looks confused.

"Baby… Do you mean soft?" I demonstrate soft by touching the carpet, and poking another pillow.

"Yes, this is soft. I no throw soft. I throw not soft." So he's taking the metaphor too literally.

"I know. Pretend it isn't soft. Pretend it's a fork. Not real fork, right?"

"Ah, okay. Not real fork." He smiles and puts the pillow down next to him.

"Yeah, so when I startle you, try not to throw the pillow. Got it?"

"Suzhoízh." _Understand...s?_

"Cool." I get up, and go to the bedroom. I make sure to leave the door wide open so I make as little noise as possible when I reenter the living room, and I take off my shoes for good measure. While waiting, I watch Zim. I can only see the back of his head and shoulders, but it's eerie the way he seems to be focused. Whenever there's a sound, like my next door neighbor slamming a door, the closer antennae will swivel toward the sound, like a cat does. It's fascinating. I give it a few minutes of quiet, then I tiptoe out of the room as quietly as I can.

"This no work." He blurts out after a few steps. "You is loud, and I know you is here." I didn't make a sound, but sure. Let's try something else then. I walk back around the couch and stand a few feet in front of Zim, making sure he's holding the pillow.

"Fine, what would you suggest then?" I cross my arms and wait. He turns away from me to think.

"I…" I take my chance. He's preoccupied, and thinks we're not practicing. I lunge at him and try to grab the pillow. Before I even get to him, he has stood up from the couch, and grabbed my left arm, simultaneously turning and lifting me back into a standing position. In the split second of all this happening, I saw his right arm pull back into a fist, and then he stopped, immediately releasing my arm and taking a few steps back. He was about to punch me, yikes. But he didn't. Progress, I suppose. I take a second to compose myself.

"Good! That was good!" _Why_ is that good? "I actually attacked you and you didn-"

"That was no good!" He growled, with shaking hands as he started to pace. "Do not do that!"

"I'm sorry, but it's okay! I trust that you won't hurt me." I raise and lower my hands in the air, as if to say _calm down_. "Here." I throw the pillow back at him.

"That was a good first start, but you need to not attack me at all."

"I know."  
"Let's try the sneak up thing again, okay?"

"That do not work." He frowns at the pillow then whispers to himself. "This do not work." Dropping the pillow, he sits on the couch, slouching with defeat. I sigh, and go to sit next to him.

"Say… I'm not me. What would you do?"

"Not you?" He turns and narrows his eyes.

"Yeah. Say I'm someone you don't like."

"What is like?"

"Oh, um." I point to Gir. "You want to fix Gir, right?"

"Yes." He murmurs.

"Well that's because you _like_ it. Him. Whatever, you care about Gir. Do you understand?"

"Yes? I… like you? Right?" He smiles a bit, and seems to cheer up.

"Oh, uh, yeah." I wasn't expecting that. "Yeah that's right, Zim… So, say I'm someone you don't like. What would you do?" It's almost as if he's frozen in place.

"Someone… I do not like?" He whispers.

"Yeah. Is there anyone like that?" His eyes turn cold, and he frowns.

"Yes." He clenches and unclenches his hands.

"Well, I'm going to go back into the bedroom, and when I come out and you see me, I want you to see _that_ person, and for you to also not attack me. Okay?" I lean over him to grab the pillow and hand it back to him. "Please remember to only throw this." I say quietly.

"See... the person I do not like?"

"Yeah. Okay then, let's give this a shot!" I have no idea why, but I reach over and gently grab his hand. "It's going to be just fine, I promise." He smiles weakly, and I retreat to the bedroom, wait a few minutes, and then reenter. I am as quiet as I can be until I can almost see the profile of Zim's face as I walk around the couch. I know he's watching me out of the corner of his eye, I just need him to see what isn't there… He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and turns towards me. When he opens his eyes he must be imagining that other person because he narrows his eyes almost to ruby slits and immediately hurls the pillow at me, smacking me in the face.

"Hey! It worked! You saw the person!" I giggle to myself as I bend down to pick up the pillow. It stings a tad bit, but it's just a more intense pillow fight. When I stand up he looks… horrified.

"I am sorry! I do not want to throw pillow!" His antennae are flat against the back of his head again. "I do not good…"

"No! No it's great! That was great!" I smile widely and go to give him back the pillow.

"What?" He stares at me as if I'm crazy.

"We now have a way to practice! You need to learn how to not act on that reflex to throw the pillow, right?" I sit on the armrest.

"Ah, yes."

"Then let's try it again!" I squeeze his hand again, and stand up to walk back towards the bedroom. "You can do this!" I have never in my life been this supportive of… anyone. Geez.

I take my position in front of the bedroom door, and his left antennae twitches. This time, when I circle the couch, his eyes are already closed, and his face is scrunched up tightly like he's concentrating. I can hear him mumbling some words in Irken I can't make out to himself. I make it to the same point as before, then turn and stomp my foot in the carpet.

His eyes flash open, he turns and lifts the pillow, and just as he's about to throw the pillow, he stops! He clutches it in his hand and looks absolutely furious for a second, then he must have shaken the mental image of the other person away and smiles at me. A genuine, happy smile.

"That was great!" He laughs a bit at my reaction, admittedly my voice went a little high. "Do you think you could do that again?" He smiles.

"Yes. I can do that again."

"Nice! Well done." I come to take my place on the couch.

"Thank you."

"You can take a break for now and fix Gir up a bit, and we can practice more later."

"Okay." He taps his fingers against the coffee table.

"Yeah, I have to do homework anyway. Oh I should probably check the assignment first anyway, and see if I've missed any emails…"

"Gaz?" The tapping's stopped.

"Hm? Yeah?" I snap out of my train of thought to see him beginning work on Gir with a slight smile on his face.

"Thank you. For help." He broadens the smile, then turns back to his work.

"You're welcome." It feels so weird to be thanked so genuinely like that. I almost… like the feeling. Just like the stars or spaghetti, it's like having another fleeting sense of that wanting for forever. Makes me feel warm without the need of a fire or blanket. It's nice.

Taking one last look at Zim, I go to my room to check on my homework. My laptop is on my desk, on the opposite side of the room. Then I notice it. Zim's suitcase is _still_ in here, leaning against the far wall. He knows it's there, but he still hasn't touched it. Why? I want to know what's in there so badly it's burning me up inside, but I somehow get the sense that I shouldn't ask about it. I don't think anything bad is in there, I just feel that it's personal. Or it will upset Zim. I'm not sure.

I shake all thoughts of the suitcase aside, and finally get to checking my emails. Looks like we did have a homework assignment from art history. A very interesting looking assignment. I grab my computer and art supplies and leave for the living room. As I step toward my bedroom door, I make sure to yell out to Zim. I'm sure he hasn't perfected the 'no attack' rule yet, so I should make it easier for him if I can.

"Hey, Zim!" As I walk into the living room, I can see that he has already turned around on the couch, thankfully he is calmly sitting there. No forks or pillows at the ready.

"Yes?"

"So you know what art is?" He shakes his head 'no'. I point to a painting on the wall. "See that? That is art. Art."

"Ah, that! Yes, I know art. Irk has art." Okay, so another planet has confirmed _paintings._ That's actually really cool.

"Yeah, good. So, I'm going to school for art. Oh, a school is a… house to learn in."

"Right. You do art?"

"Yeah, I'm an artist. Of sorts. I'm going to do computer graphics and video game art, but that's beside the point. I take a few 'regular' art classes and I just got an interesting assignment!" He blinks in total confusion.

"What? I do not under-" I wave him off.

"It's okay, it doesn't matter. Look!" I show him the email with the assignment, and he just tilts his head at me and smirks.

"You know I do not understand that, right?" He points at the email. I'm an idiot, he can't read. Duh. Of course they have a completely different writing system…

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. Well, it says I have to do a realism fantasy piece for my art 104 class. I figure I could make it easier for myself to just draw you instead of making something up. No one will know the difference, and I'll be able to cheat by having a real life model!" I think I've lost him again.

"What?" He chuckles. "You so fast. Slow down! What is draw? Fan-ta-see?"

"This is drawing." I grab a piece of paper and doodle a stick figure on it. "See?"

"Draw is art, yes?" He takes the paper and seemingly analizes it.

"Well, kinda, but yeah. So, I want to draw you. Understand?" He looks up at me from the paper and cocks his head.

"Draw me? Why?"

"For school, well it doesn't matter why, but I want to. Are you okay with that?" He shrugs and nods his head.

"Yes, that is good. I am okay with that."

"Sweet! I'll get started on it right- Actually, I'll let you go to sleep. It's getting late, I should sleep too." I carefully stack my art stuff on a side table next to the chair. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay Zim? Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Gaz." He turns back to Gir to work some more, and I go to bed.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Now all I need to do is _find_ the alien. So far even the really deep channels I hack into don't have any useful information, besides that completely fake helicopter story. Looks like I'm going to have to find it without government 'help.' Figures.

I don't think they have the alien though, because I've picked up major heightened military activity around the area where the ship crashed, which means to me that they're looking for it. That it got away. If it's a shapeshifter, it could have already infiltrated the white house! God, these guys are amateurs, I'll show them! My next step is to figure out where the alien went.

The ship crashed in a fairly isolated location, meaning that if the alien got away on its own, it most likely wouldn't have encountered any humans if it chose to hide in the forest. However, there are some small towns nearby that would be obvious for any intelligent creature _trying_ to find civilization. Here's the weird part. I've been following government activity in the area closely and while they seem to have investigated most of those towns, they've ignored two of them all together, one of them being the closest town to the site! Why would they do that?  
Think, Dib, think! The only reason they wouldn't go near that town is if they already knew the alien wasn't there. How would they know that? There hasn't been so much as a single soldier step foot in there. It doesn't make sense!

Unless… Unless they have a lead on the alien. Obviously since they seem to be sending envoys to most of the towns going outward in distance from the crash site they haven't found what they're looking for, which means the alien is still out there. I need to find out why they aren't investigating every town, but most of them. They must have some sort of pre-screening factor for what they're looking for.

I find it hard to believe that the alien has already visited the thirty odd towns and villages that have received government guests, so they must be looking for someone else. Like a person… A person! Somehow they know something about a person with a connection to the alien and they're looking for them! They must have some sort of (seemingly extremely vague) description and are pre-screening towns to look for them.

I think it's time for me to take a vacation to the Appalachian mountains. Get some fresh air, talk to some locals, see what they've heard. The usual, touristy things. Plus, Gaz's school is nearby so I can say hi to her while I'm there.


	7. Stitches

When I wake up in the morning, my routine always consists of a shower, blow drying my hair, getting dressed, and doing my makeup. For the first time since I got this apartment I am extremely grateful for the ensuite bathroom now that I have a roommate. I never wanted to share my space with anyone, really, but I'm growing pleasantly accustomed to Zim's presence. He's actually kind of… nice. I guess I should consider myself lucky for having a nice roommate.

When I open the door to the living room, I can see that Zim is already awake, probably working on Gir, and has folded his blankets neatly on one side of the couch, as usual. I wouldn't even believe that he actually slept except for the fact that he was sleeping the first day when I brought him here. His species must need less sleep than humans. Before I step past the safety of the threshold, I make sure to alert Zim that I'm awake, lest he react in an unsavory way. Although, since I opened the door he already knows that, he's got insanely good hearing after all.

"Good morning Zim!" His antennae both react at the sound of my voice, and he turns to look over his shoulder and smile at me.

"Eífi'ith, Gaz." _Good morning._ "How was your sleep?" I walk around the couch as he talks, and sit down just in time to answer.

"Good, thank you for asking. You?" He looks to have made significant progress on Gir during the night, as the little robot is mostly back together now, save for many components yet to be put back in it's chest compartment.

"Good. Gir is fix soon!" He smiles that broad toothy grin and gestures towards Gir. "I am happy for Gir to be fix."

"I can see that! So what does Gir do, exactly?" His left antennae twitches and he winces a bit.

"He… He was a help to me, but now he is a… z̀eínaovwa. Eh, I like? Person I like? What is word…"

"A friend? Someone you like is your friend." He smiles.

"Yes! A friend, well, like a friend." Okay, Zim is friends with a robot…

"He's a robot, though. Is he able to have friends?" Zim immediately looks highly offended.

"Yes! Gir is smart! Irkez robot are smart. Gir has a not real brain, but he has a brain." So the most advanced artificial intelligence I will ever see in my lifetime is partially disassembled on my coffee table. Man, dad would have a _field_ day if he saw Gir.

"Cool, I'm glad that you'll be able to get your friend back. Plus you would have someone to talk to in Irken again." I'm not sure how comforting that may be, given how he seems to feel about his home planet, but it must be exhausting to struggle to speak in English all day.

"Yes, but Gir can say English."

"What?" Gir speaks English? "How?" He shrugged.

"When Gir is fix, I teach him with computer." He points to my laptop. "Not hard. Gir can help my English." He taps his head with the end of the screwdriver he's holding. "I will learn fast with Gir help."

"That's great!" Gir will become the duolingo owl. Maybe I can find him a costume… "So, Gir is able to download information like that? Are you sure he'll even be able to connect to my computer?"

"Download?"

"Uh, computer learning. Download information." It will be a huge help when Gir is up and running.

"Ah, yes! Gir can download from all computer." Holy shit.

"That's really impressive." Zim smirks.

"I know."

"Look, I have to read a chapter of this stupid art book before I go to class, much as I don't want to do that. I'll be right back." He nods, and I head off to grab the book and come back to sit with him in the comfortable silence that hovers around Zim. It feels cozy, and I don't know why. I sit back on the couch, to the left of Zim, and start to read while listening to the quiet background noises of Zim's tinkering of Gir. I'm like to curl up into the corner of the couch and rest the book I'm reading on my knees, to take the weight of it off my hands. I can barely see the top of Zim's head over the book, and I realize that he's been healing unusually fast since the accident and I should probably remove his stitches. He seems deep in the work zone and I have class in a little bit, so I'll just do it when I get home.

I turn my attention back to the book and try to absorb myself in the dry and boring paragraph about medieval art. Maybe after this chapter I can also start that drawing of Zim… Ugh! I don't have enough time for all this stuff and I need to focus! _In 1386, an artist by the name of-_

"Gaz?" Zim's voice breaks me out of my newly found reading concentration. Not that I'm angry about any excuse to not do my homework. I flip the book down to see that Zim has put down his tools and is leaning back into the seat and looking at me.

"Yeah?" I have no idea what he wants. His left antennae twitches.

"Will you teach me?" Now I'm confused.

"Teach you what?" He points at the book.

"Teach me that." He wants me to teach him how to read! How did I learn how to do that again?

"Um, yeah. I can do that." I uncurl from my position in the corner of the couch and scoot closer so that I'm sitting next to him. "Um, these are letters… Uhhhhh." I have no idea what I'm doing, and then I remember. My dad taught me to read by holding his finger under the word he read as he would read to me. It somehow helped my brain make the connection between the letters and words, and the sounds they made at the same time. Over time, he began to let me read parts of whatever it was we were reading, so I could practice. I'm going to do that.

"Irkens write, correct? Like this?" I gesture to the book. I want to make sure that he's at least familiar with this, and they don't use hieroglyphs or color coded letters.

"Yes." He laughs, "Most all planets."

"Okay good." Before I start reading, I pull up the picture of the alphabet on my phone. "This is our alphabet. All of our letters," I point to the letters. "That make up our words. What we say. Does that make sense?"

"Yes."

"Alright. So, I'm going to read, and as I read, I'll point to the word. Understand?" He nods, and I begin. "Chapter four: Art in the medieval period. Although many call this period of time the dark ages, pre renaissance art was slowly beginning to flourish…"

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

"Hello ma'am, my name is Major Ian Johnson. May I come in?" The old lady on the other side of the screen door looked quite suspicious as to why I was there, but nodded reluctantly and let me in. "Thank you, what's your name, ma'am?" I already know her name.

"Kathy Ollman."

"Pleasure to meet you Mrs. Ollman." We shake hands.

"It's just Ms. now." She shakes her head sadly.

"Oh I apologize ma'am."

"It's alright. Would you like some water?" I appreciate that she was being calm about all the government officials combing through her town.

"No, thank you. That's quite kind of you ma'am." She guides me into her living room and we both sit down on some old floral sofas. "I'm sure you're wondering what us government folks are doing, sniffing around here, however don't worry, it's nothing too serious. Unfortunately, a fugitive of the law has escaped near your town-"

"What? That sounds serious to me!" She gasped.

"Oh don't worry ma'am, they aren't dangerous. A computer hacker, you see? Hacked into some databases a while back. Now, we don't know much about this person, however we know they have a white female accomplice of an unknown age with blue or hazel eyes. Would you by any chance have seen anyone by that description?" Her blue eyes blinked in surprise.

"Why no! I mean, the only two girls around here with blue eyes are the Jenson twins, and they're as sweet as can be!"

Figured. The only woman around here that fits those descriptions and has O+ blood is Ms. Kathy Ollman, right in front of me. I'm getting the feeling that she's not involved, just like the other forty women or so I've interviewed. Not counting the women that the other soldiers have interviewed. This hunt for the Occupant is a wild goose chase that's a waste of my time.

"We're just checking all avenues, ma'am. Do you mind if I take a look around?"

"No, go right ahead. I assure you there are no computer whatevers here!" I excuse myself, and take a quick tour around her unassuming home. Not surprising, there is nothing of interest. Now it's an official dead end. Returning to the living room, I thank Ms. Ollman, and leave for my truck.

Now that this town is cleared, on to the next one. We're never going to find this thing. A woman with type O+... That's the only real clue we have. More than a third of the population has that blood type, and half of them are women, thankfully narrowing down that staggering number. Add in the fact that she's caucasion and has blue or hazel eyes, and you still get a frustratingly vague description. She could be anyone, be anywhere, and we may never find her, or the Occupant.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

"Zim, I'm home!" I always make sure to yell out now when I get home. Makes things easier for everybody. I drop my backpack in the hall and walk into the living room. It looked like he was studying the art book I 'forgot' to bring to class as it is now sitting open in his lap.

"Hello Gaz, how was class?" His English definitely is improving.

"It was good! I didn't fall asleep bored out of my mind, nor did I punch through anyone's annoying face. All in all, not a bad day. How are you doing?"

"Learning the book. It is hard, but Gir will help when he is fix." Gir is almost complete now, looks like he needs a few more adjustments and then he'll be on his feet. Doing robot things, I guess.

"Nice!" I come over to sit on the couch. "You should probably take a break though. It's easier for you to learn if you take little breaks, yes?"

"I know." He closes the book and gently places it on the coffee table. When he turns to me and smiles, seemingly thinking about something, I notice it.

"Hey, I think it's time to remove your stitches. It's only been a week, but you sure heal fast." The wound on his forehead looks great, and I'm sure his arm looks the same way.

"You think? Do not worry, I can do it." He softly touches the stitches on his forehead and frowns, ever so slightly.

"No, I insist. It'll be easier if I do it. Um, stay put for a second, I'll go grab the first aid kit, just in case."

"Fine." He grumbles. When I return with the kit he looks less annoyed and more nervous. "You know this?" He says.

"Yeah, don't worry! It will be fine!" This shouldn't be that hard, right? He sighs.

"I trust you." He leans in so I can better access the stitches on his forehead. I take a deep breath, and get to work, carefully using the first aid scissors and tweezers to cut and then gently pulling out the stitches. To Zim's credit he doesn't wince once. He would kill it at poker. It doesn't take long to remove them, and his wound thankfully seems to have fully healed. I suppose I can chalk that up to incredible advanced alien immune systems or something like that.

"That's all done!" He leans away from me and touches his forehead and smiles.

"Thank you, Gaz."

"It's really no problem. Oh I almost forgot! I have to do your arm too." The injury on his arm is much too high for him to comfortably roll the hoodie sleeves up, so…

"Um, Zim, you're going to have to take the sweater off." His left antennae twitches and I feel like I blushed. I better not have. He sighs and goes to take it off. I scoot away slightly to give him room. His hoodie hits the floor next to him, and I try hard to keep my face neutral from the shock I'm in.

There are dozens and dozens of scars all over his body. Just like on his arm when I first saw it, some are thin and hard to see, while others are thick and raised. There's one right below his ribcage that's only a few inches long, but it's scarred so badly it's a half inch thick and darker than the surrounding skin. I must have not been able to contain my shock because Zim lightly shakes my right shoulder to get my attention. I snap out of it to look at his face, and his small, sad smile.

"I do not want to scare. I am okay, yes?" I nod, feeling like an idiot, my gaze constantly being drawn to the thick scar below the ribcage. I can hear him softly chuckle, sounding miles away over my own heartbeat. I see him point to the scar, and I'm brought back to reality to hear him speak.

"It was knife. I did not have a nice Gaz to make stitches for me."

"I'm sorry." I whisper, before I can even comprehend what I am saying. Suddenly both of his hands are on my shoulders, and his face is right in front of mine.

"It is not you! Do not be sorry." He looks serious, and his voice is rough. "It is past now. I am good." He smiles a stronger smile, and let's go of me. I'm finally able to turn my attention towards his arm and am able to remove his stitches.

"I know that it wasn't me." I break the awkward silence as I work. "I'm sorry that it happened at all. You didn't deserve that." He chuckles, but it's dry and without humor.

"You do not know that." His left antennae twitches, and he turns away from me.

"Yes I do." I say with newfound determination. "I know enough about you to know that you did not deserve that. Whatever you think of yourself, whatever this horrible thing is that you think you have done, it is not worthy of this." He stays silent. "I cannot think of someone who deserves this." I whisper.

"I can." I don't want to know. The last stitch is out, and I flash a large fake smile.

"There! All done." He leans over and grabs his discarded hoodie.

"Thank you." He says as he puts it on.

"No problem."

"Hmm." He picks up the art book and begins to study it again, but I think he should relax, especially after that stressful conversation. Or at least I want to relax, because it was stressful for me.

"Do you like movies?" He turns towards me.

"What?"

"Movies. It's a form of entertainment here on earth, just like reading. It's when- actually, I'm sure you have something similar on Irk." I wave away any forming questions he has. "Sit back, relax, and let me pick something." I'm old fashioned and still have a rack of DVDs, because I like having hard copies and the real visualization of what movies I own. After a few minutes of searching, I find what I'm looking for.

"You seem to feel guilty about something that happened to you, and while I don't know what that is, I can assure you that what happened then does not affect you now." He opens his mouth to argue. "Furthermore, you are on earth now, and you said yourself you're not going back to Irk, so I think you should think of this as a fresh start." I slide the DVD into the player. "Now scoot over! You're taking up the whole couch." I go to curl up in my corner, and I toss him the DVD box. He studies it, and tries to read it as the movie loads.

"The… Eeeroon-"

"Iron." He shoots a quick glare at me then smirks.

"I learn. The Iron, guy-ant."

"Giant. Well done!" I smile as extra approval.

"Thank you." He looks back at the case and mouths the words once more to himself. I hit play.


	8. Now We're Talking

This rental car is a piece of trash. One turn taken too fast on this windy mountain road, and I swear it's going to fall apart! The damn thing shudders every time I press the gas pedal, and I know I've taken my life into my hands with this. The lady at the airport definitely swindled me good... No matter, nothing is an obstacle in the name of _science!_ Or at least, that's what dad says.

As far as I can tell, the military has investigated hundreds of towns all around this area in the last week. However, they haven't looked at all of them, which leads me to believe they know something I don't know about the alien, or who it may be traveling with. I know I won't find any aliens here, or at least my chances are small, but I'm hoping to learn what, or who, the government is looking for.

Slowly crossing the last hill, I can see it. There's a small cluster of houses and assorted buildings buried in the corner of this valley, almost like it's trying to hide. Definitely a good spot for paranormal activity… that church looks quite old - Focus, Dib! Ghosts can wait, an alien is something _no one_ can call me crazy for! But if I see any ghosts on the way, that would be a nice bonus to this whole experience. Although, if I prove the existence of alien life, I'm sure people will take me seriously about everything I say. Wouldn't that be nice.

Finally pulling up in what appears to be one of five streets in this town, I park the car and observe my surroundings. This seems to be a residential area, kind of, as the only general store is at the end of the road, and that house looks like a toy shop… nevermind. There's a few people here and there, and so far they all look like normal, non alien-harboring fugitives to me. I'm careful not to accidentally destroy the car in the simple process of getting out of it, and I pick a boring looking house to jump-start the coolest adventure in my entire life!

Knocking on the simple white door I can feel a sense of adventure and excitement rush through me. What if this house has the alien? Is it friendly? What does it look like? Maybe I got lucky and the government idiots missed it, oh, think of all the things I could learn from it! This could be - it's an old lady. Damn.

"Can I help you, young man?" She looked at me suspiciously, and even though she _looks_ like a discount Betty White, I have to remember to not trust anyone…

"Yes, you can! My name is Dib Membrane, I'm a paranormal investigator. Tell me, have you seen any military types asking questions around here lately?" It's a straight forward enough question, but she has the audacity to sigh at me, as if I wasn't trying to save humanity here!

"Yeah, they were 'round here two days ago. They didn't talk to me, though. Guess I'm not importan' enough for them. But I think that the government needs to keep their noses outta our business! Don't know why they would come 'round here anyway. There's nothin' here." As if she suddenly remembered she was talking to someone, her glazed, zoned out look vanished as she glared at me. "You with them?"

"Absolutely not! I'm trying to… to catch them! Yeah, they're doing, uh, illegal stuff? And I'm trying to prove it!" That was possibly, the dumbest thing I've ever said. Please, please, please fall for that. She leans back a bit and considers me. I knew I shouldn't have worn the trench-coat to a small town. It's not exactly friendly attire.

"Alright then." Oh thank god, she accepted that. "Look, I heard from Susan that they only talked to one house 'ere. They practically _interrogated_ Bob Donnahy, down at the end of the street." She points to a dark grey ranch house about a few hundred feet away. "Now, he's a good man and he ain't never done anything wrong. No reason he should be in trouble with anyone." And with that, she slammed the white door shut.

"Um… thank you!" Idiot, she's not even listening. Okay, Bob Donnahy, end of the block. There I go, saving the world! In this little town in the middle of nowhere, Pennsylvania. It's a nice enough town, I guess. It's not my cup of tea, but it's the perfect place for something sinister to hide. I'm not going to lose faith that the alien is here, but I would have to be the luckiest man alive to simply stumble upon it here.

Reaching the old weathered porch door, I cross my fingers and wish for all the luck in the world as I knock. After a few seconds of waiting and the far away sounds of birds, I can hear footsteps beginning to approach the door, and then a tall lumberjack type guy, who I can only assume is Bob, opens the door. He's looks like a hallmark card's idea of a outdoors-man. Flannel, beard, big boots and all. It's almost impressive how dedicated he is to the stereotype.

"Whaddya want." He barks out at me.

"H-hi, are you Bob Donnahy?" He squints his eyes.

"Who's askin'." He crosses his arms and frowns at me.

"Well, my name is Dib Membrane, and I'm a para - I'm investigating the strange involvement of government agencies in this town. I heard they talked to you?" Instantly his frown becomes a scowl, and he moves to close the door.

"We're done here." He says. Thinking fast, I jam my foot into the doorframe just before the door slams shut.

"Ow!" That was not a good idea. "Wait! I'm not with them! I'm against them, promise! And, uh, _please_ release my foot." Slowly, he opened the door, letting me awkwardly stumble backwards in pain.

"You're against 'em? How can I trust that?" He looks at me the same way the old lady from down the street did.

"Well," I straighten myself up as best I can. "Do I _look_ like a government official?" I gesture at my trench-coat, and he laughs.

"Nah, you're too scrawny to be in the government. You look like you haven't done a hard days work in your life."

"Gee, thanks." I do work hard! It's just not manual labor.

"Come in, kid." He steps aside and holds the door open for me. Walking in, I follow him to the living room where he gestures for me to sit in an old floral armchair.

"Hey, thanks for letting me in, I really appreciate it. I promise I'm not here to interrogate you, or anything like that. Um, you have a lovely house, where did you get-"

"Skip the small talk kid, what're you here for." He reclines in his chair, and practically glares down his nose at me.

"Okay then, I'll get right to it. I'm actually _following_ the government, I think they're looking for… something, but I want to find it first. If they find it, no one will ever know it was even there. And if I find it, I could do some good with it. I think. Does that make sense?"

"Sure."

"Well, I heard that they came to this house, and I've been tracking them, you see? And for some reason they aren't investigating every town, and even in the towns they do go to they only ask for certain houses… Making a long story short, what did they ask you? What do you have to do with this? What are they looking for?" He stares at me quietly and taps his fingers against the arms of the chair. After a few moments, he sighs and stands up.

"They didn' want to talk to me. Come on, I'll show you." He walks out of the living room and up the stairs. I scramble to follow him, excited about this possible lead. Although it doesn't sound like he has the alien. When we reach the top of the stairs, he opens a door on our left, and gestures me inside.

"This is my daughter, Charlotte." The bedroom was a pale blue, and sunlight was pouring in through the open window opposite the door. In the bed was what looked like a teenage girl, but she was thin and sickly looking, asleep in her bed with IV tubes and heart monitors hooked up to her. Her long black hair was dull and limp, and she had dark circles under her eyes. Her bedside table had a fresh bouquet of flowers, but there were dried flower petals here and there on the floor, indicating she had been here a long time.

"I don't understand." This girl was no alien, and she couldn't possibly have had anything to do with the crash. What would the government want with her?

"Those idiots were lookin' for something specific, that I'm sure of, but they didn't do enough of their research. Charlotte was in an accident two years ago, you see? She hasn't woken up yet, but I know she will. She's got nothing to do with whatever they want."

"I'm sorry." What do you say in a situation like this?

"Unless you drive a 1976 ford bronco, it's not your fault, kid." I do not drive one of those. The room falls silent. I take our shared time in the uncomfortable atmosphere of Charlotte's bedroom to refocus my mind on the task at hand.

"But… I don't get it, what did they ask you for?" He huffed.

"These two soldiers came knockin' at my door, wanting to speak to Charlotte. I told 'em that wasn't possible, but they insisted. Said they had reason to believe she may be involved with something."

"Involved with what?"

"They didn't say, I asked that too and they said it was top secret. I told them again she wasn't available and they got pushy about it. This young one, probably some sort of new guy, started yellin' at me. Askin' me where Charlotte was on the night of Friday the 20th."

"Friday the 20th…" That's the night of the landing! Obviously Charlotte was in no way involved, so what would they want with her?

"Yeah, that's right. I was about to tell them to fuck off when the leader came outta his car and stormed up to the house. Some major or colonel, I don't know. He apologized for the new guy's behavior and asked to talk to Charlotte. I told him no, again, and to get off my property. He says it's a 'matter of national emergency'. Can you believe that?"

"Maybe…" I mutter to myself.

"This clown says they think Charlotte might've done something that Friday, and they wanted a saliva sample and to ask her some questions. I'm so fed up that I grab that colonel and show him Charlotte, and then he-"

"Wait, hold on. Did you say saliva sample?" They wanted Charlotte's DNA?

"Yeah, didn't say why, though. I didn't think to ask, just wanted them to get the hell outta my house."

"What else did they ask you?" I'm getting good intel here!

"That's it. The boss apologized, and left. Heard him yelling at the soldier about doing better research, though."

"Yeah… okay." Damn. Dead end.

"Does this mean anything to you?"

"It might, actually. Let's go downstairs and talk." This room makes me feel so sad. Bob nods, and I follow him back down to the living room and we take our seats.

"Tell it to me straight, kid. What is this all about?"

"Well, as far as I know, the government is looking for… something. For some reason they thought your daughter was involved."

"Obviously she wasn't." He muttered.

"Yeah." I winced. "The question is, why though. See, I think they have a DNA sample from someone who has this thing. The thing they're looking for? And that's why they wanted to talk to your daughter, because she must have the traits they're looking for."

"They sure ain't doing that much research beforehand."

"That's probably because they're rushing… They want to find this thing as soon as possible, and they're probably interrogating every single person that fits the profile. Since they weren't interested in you, maybe they're only looking for women. Or a certain hair type, or maybe even an… allergy or something! I don't know…" I wish I had more information.

"Look, kid. I don't know what this is about, and to be frank, I don't wanna know, but I think you got some brains, yeah? You'll figure this out."

"Thanks, Mr. Donnahy, I sure hope so."

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

"Hold still! I can't get the details if you keep moving your head!" I'm trying to draw Zim for my art project, while he works on Gir at the same time. To say the least, it's not working all that well. He laughs and tilts his face up to look at me.

"I am busy, you want to draw, fine." He smiles. "I want to fix Gir." Rolling my eyes and trying not to smile back, I counter.

"You agreed to this, remember? The least you could do is be still!" I have a rough outline of his face already down on the paper. In the drawing, he's looking down, focused intently on what's beyond the page. I know that to be Gir, but my art teacher won't. He has the slightest smile, and his right eye is squinting just a little bit more than his left. I must say, his smile is beginning to be quite infectious.

"Aoseí." _Whatever._ "I do best, okay?" With a cocky grin, he returns to working on Gir, and I'm resigned to focus on drawing, even when he moves his head all over the place.

As time goes on, I'm able to get more of his face. The small scar on his cheek, the new one from the crash on his forehead. The way his browline creases when he's focused, even though he doesn't have eyebrows. When I move to color, I find it difficult to completely capture the brilliant colors of his eyes and skin. I have noticed that his eyes aren't entirely one uniform color of red. There's a part of the eye that's a tiny bit darker than the rest, I think that's his pupil. It's hard to see, but now that I've noticed it, it makes it easier to tell where he's looking. It's fascinating, really. I'm almost done, and beginning to admire my work when a beeping noise rips me from my train of thought.

"Lezichí! Kaí finoízh gach!" _I did it!_ Looking up at Zim's outburst, I see his face is full of glee, as Gir's eyes light up to a deep red.

"Holy shit." Gir's eyes flash a couple of times, then he abruptly sits up on the coffee table. Gir then does what looks like a salute, crossing his left arm over the front of his body with his hand in a fist. I notice Zim wince at this, as Gir finishes the salute.

"Gethid Ibugaolkeí Repwochúr, aígejaí pa a zhuwukh!" Gir's voice sounds metallic, and fake. Like an early version of Siri, I suppose. Zim sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Gir, pap gach bufe." Zim says.

"Wait, what did he say? What was-" Before I can finish, Gir's eyes flash to blue and he jumps up onto the table and screeches.

"Aíb khí eg? Kaí kho núʻol!" _Where are we? I'm… hungry?_ That's weird. Zim looks shocked, his mouth dropping open in surprise. Gir turns and points at me and screams again, every time he talks the little line that symbolizes his mouth lights up blue.

"Usped veírnú!" I didn't get that, but Zim flushes a few shades darker and seems to get a grip on himself.

"Gir, zas!" _Stop!_ Gir immediately turns back to Zim, and shrieks again. My neighbors are going to kill me.

" 'Aongaothao, lesi!" _Hello… something._ Zim flinches, and squints at Gir.

"Finú tuzit kaí chin. Kaí kho Zim, veíú?" Zim speaks in a calm voice to Gir, and holds his attention for a lovely few seconds. Then, the crazy robot laughs, actually _laughs_ , and jumps off the coffee table and runs into the kitchen. Zim and I sit in the living room in shock for a brief few seconds, until I break the silence.

"What… was that?" Zim laughs nervously and his left antennae twitches.

"I do not know. I did not fix right." He frowns.

"What was he saying?" His antennae twitches.

"Beginner thing. His name." He shrugs.

"Okay, sure. What did he say to me? He pointed at me and said something." I can hear pots and pans clattering to the floor in the kitchen, but I'm trying to block it out for the sake of my sanity. I swear on my life Zim's face darkens again, like he's blushing.

"It is not important."

"Tell me, Zim." I try to sound threatening, and his antennae lie flat against his head as he seems to consider it.

"Gir… He say you are, how do you say, nice to see?" What? Does he mean pretty?

"I'm sorry, what?" Gir comes running back into the living room with a pot on his head and jumps up on the coffee table.

"Mingich, lesi!" He yells at Zim, who sighs and corrects him.

"Zim." Gir ignores him, and continues, pointing to the pot on his head.

"Kaí vaí z̀eír gíptoíthú!" He spins and does what I think is a bow, as if to show off his new… pot hat.

"Gach khí yeívi gab, Gir." Zim speaks through gritted teeth, managing to look more and more frustrated as time goes on. I'm just annoyed that I can't understand anything.

"Zim, will you download English into Gir, please?" They both turn to me as soon as I speak, seemingly forgetting I was sitting right here. Zim chuckles nervously.

"Gaz, Gir is not fix. He say… weird thing."

"I don't care, please just do it?" Gir points at me and says the same thing from earlier. I continue to talk over him. "I'd just like to understand what's going on. Please?" Zim stops glaring at Gir to look at me, and slumps down into the couch as he seems to concede.

"Fine. I need computer." I ignore Gir's crazed mutterings and little dance on the coffee table to go and grab my laptop, bringing it to Zim, he gets straight to work. He opens up the computer, goes to google, and sets the laptop down on the table. He turns to Gir, and speaks sternly.

"Gir, kaí'oích al daov fí keíptú al mipta chuyaʻe khow no el lenzin thaíp fím el aokchúr." _I want you… learn… can… the language, planet…_ I give up. That's way too many words for me right now, and everything going on has fried my brain. Gir's eyes light up red, which seems to surprise Zim, and he turns to the computer and moves his hand towards it. The tip of his first finger flips open, like a lighter, and some sort of cord comes out, almost like an aux cable, but smaller. The small aux cable splits up into many smaller cables, and attach to one of the HDMI ports. As soon as this happens, the screen changes.

It's like the laptop is running through every website that ever existed all at once, and I have to close my eyes and look away before I get a seizure from it. Even with my eyes closed, I can see the flashing lights of the laptop screen light dimly light up the darkness I'm craving. After what seems like an eternity of lights and the occasional sound, the light stops. I cautiously turn to look, and my computer is back to normal and Gir is standing completely still, his hand all back together.

Zim is rubbing his eyes, so he seems to have been affected by the disco lighting as well, but he straightens up and focuses his attention on Gir.

"Gir, mipta al suzh english enga?" _Can you understand English?_ The lights of Gir's blue eyes flash a couple of times, almost like he's blinking, and then the robot squeals with delight.

"I can understand it!" Oh God, this is so much worse now that I can understand. Gir shrieks and slurs his words like some sort of drunkard, which makes Zim flinch back and flatten his antennae like he's afraid he's going to go deaf. The light in Gir's eyes seem to be some sort of screen, because parts of the 'eye' will go dark or light up mimicking the appearance of emotions. I would appreciate the clever design more if I didn't want to throttle the robot Zim worked so hard on fixing.

"Pretty lady!" Gir shrieks and points at me. Well, that confirms that, although the compliment is not welcome by the most annoying four foot tall creature to ever exist. "Are we on Irk, pretty lady?" I can see Zim frown and turn away in the corner of my eye, so I figure it's best if I get the robot to shut up about Irk.

"Uh, no, Gir. We're not… there, we're on a planet called Earth. My planet." His blue eyes flicker, and the light moves upward, as if he's smiling.

"Okay!" Gir turns to Zim. "Master, where is-" Zim cuts him off.

"It is Zim, and no. We are only ones here." His left antennae twitches, and he almost looks sad.

"But, I want-"

" _Eídíp_ , Gir." _No._ "Zas pa tulkarínga chuya gach. Rith." _Stop… Please._ The blue lights of Gir's eyes flicker downwards, almost as if he's sad.

"Okay. I am sorry." He even goes as far as to fake sniff, hops down from the coffee table and begins to walk away.

"Wait, Gir!" I say. Gir spins back around faster than I can blink and the blue lights in his eyes have moved upwards. Zim looks at me in confusion, as he's clearly annoyed. "I need you to teach Zim english."

"Ah, pav." Zim mumbles to himself.

"Really?" Gir squeals, and I try hard to keep my face neutral.

"Yes, really. Could you do something for me, Gir?" The blue light expands to fill up both of his 'eyes'.

"Yes, pretty lady!" I need Zim to manually turn down his volume or something.

"First, call me Gaz. _Not_ pretty lady. Second, could you please be quieter? My neighbors won't like the noise much."  
"Sure thing!" No change in the noise level. It was worth a shot I guess.

"Okay, um, I didn't think this far ahead but this is what we're gonna do. Zim and I are going to talk, and you're going to translate, cool?" Zim makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat but doesn't say anything.

"Cool!" Gir's eyes shift to red for a brief second and he salutes. As soon as it happened, the blue light was back.

"Oh, and if Zim or I actually need something translated we'll um…" I look to Zim for help, and after a few seconds of thinking he snaps his fingers. "Yeah, that! Get it?" The little robot nods. "Good." I turn my attention to Zim. "So, what happened with Gir?" Zim winces, and stares at Gir, seemingly thinking so hard his antennae are going to pop off.

"I do not know. I do not have tools to fix." He gestures to Gir. "Best I can fix."

"Okay, that makes sense. It's not like earth has anything close to the technology needed to fix Gir." Although, maybe my dad does… "Um, is there any other planet that could fix it?" Zim's eyes harden immediately and he hisses to himself.

"Isi reg fiptazínga Irkezeích, to kaí kho noj pa khúnga fií ga." The blue of Gir's eyes move up as he 'smiles' and begins to translate.

"Only those fucking Irkezeích, and I-"

"Gir! Kaí finoíchú eípwí aokh yí ngeíno'eích." Zim says as he snaps his fingers in front of Gir's face.

"I didn't snap my fingers!" Gir parrots back, causing Zim to slap his hand against his face in defeat. I'm trying not to laugh, as I don't want to upset Zim, but it's definitely a challenge.

"Well, technically you snapped your fingers that time." Zim rolled his eyes at that.

"Mi, a úgúdaolkeí." He grumbles as he snaps his fingers.

"Yes, for emphasis!" Gir says happily.

"Oh cheer up! Look, we can communicate better now, isn't that great?" He turns to me and smiles.

"Yes. Gach khí yov daov kho chuth daov tulkar daov al githaolkeí." He whispers, almost to himself, and I snap my fingers. Zim's skin darkens ever so slightly as I do this.

"It's wonderful to be able to talk to you fully!" Gir delivers every translation with such a pep that I feel it should take away the emotion that Zim speaks with, but I'm able to discern between the two.

"Yeah, me too. I'm glad that I met you, you've made my life so much more exciting."

Zim snaps his fingers.


	9. Guilty

Disclaimer: I will probably never own Invader Zim

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Darkness. That’s what I open my eyes to. Sitting up in bed, I look at my alarm clock, shining the only light in my room. It’s 2:38 am. Ugh. I slump back into bed, willing myself to go back to sleep. The sounds of wind and cars drift through my cracked window, and I feel myself being lulled back to dreamland, when I hear something else. Somebody is talking, quietly, I can’t make out what they’re saying, but it doesn’t sound like English. It’s not coming from the window, it sounds like it’s coming from the living room. The momentary rush of fear that runs up my spine wakes me up completely, and I sit up in bed like a rocket and listen intently.

God, I’m an idiot. Of course it’s just Zim. He’s muttering to himself, in Irken, of course, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. I’m not going to be going back to sleep anytime soon, so I guess I might as well go see what he’s doing. Making the initiative to get out of bed, I fumble in the darkness for slippers and a robe, and open the door.

It’s dark in the living room, which is not what I was expecting. Idiot, obviously if the light was on it would have come in under the door… Maybe Zim is doing something that needs to be done in the dark? I want  _ some _ light, so I close my door almost all the way and turn on my bedroom light so the living room is barely illuminated. Now, I can see him.

The air mattress he sleeps in arrived three days ago, and during the day we lean it against the wall, but at night we put it on the floor behind the couch, in front of my door. He’s asleep, facing away from me, curled into a fetal position. His antennae are twitching, and his muttering hasn’t stopped. I look over at Gir, who is powered off into sleep mode. When Zim told me that was a possibility I was happy, but now I would like his help. I have no idea how to turn Gir back on, so I guess it’s just me and Zim.

I gently kneel on the ground and scoot closer, just to see what’s going on and if I can make out what he’s saying. I can’t see his face, but his shoulders are hunched together with his hands clenched tightly in front of his chest. His voice was getting louder and his head turned more into the pillow.

“...ú shi kaí. Kaí mipta’ú. Kaí mipta’ú fin gach giʻot.”  _ I can’t. I can’t… _ Can’t what? “Rith.”  _ Please. _ “Kaí pa kaorkúzh al.” He’s having a nightmare. I can’t help the sorrow that swells in my chest, I know there’s something that’s happened to him in his past, and he’s still suffering from it. Not rationally thinking at all, I grab his shoulder and gently shake a few times.

“Zim… Zim, wake up!” I try to sound as gentle as I possibly can, wishing I knew how to say it in Irken.

“Kaí pat’ú…”

“Zim, please.”

“Finú daz kaí, al túyod kaos!” All at once, he yells and whips around, grabbing me before I can process what happened.

“Zim!” I yell in surprise. His eyes snap open, and he lets go and falls back against the back of the couch. The air is tense, with the sound of his panicked breathing echoing all around me. “Are you okay?” I slowly scoot towards him, lifting my hands up to try and calm him. He looks like a wild animal, cornered and on the verge of attacking.

“It’s okay. You were just sleeping, there’s nothing here.” He blinks, seemingly seeing me for the first time since waking, and takes a deep breath.

“That is wrong.” He chokes out, defeat dripping in his words.

“No, look, it’s just me, I promise. No one is going to hurt you.” His breath catches in his throat, almost like he’s about to cry.

“I hurt you.” He whispers.

“What? Zim, come on, you would never hurt me.” As soon as I say those words, I can feel it. My cheek is stinging. Gently touching my face, I can feel a scratch on my left cheek, doesn’t seem to be too deep, but I pull my fingers back to see blood. He must’ve accidentally scratched me when he woke up. I look to Zim, and he looks devastated.

“It’s okay Zim! It was an accident, okay?” I reach out to comfort him, but he covers his face in his hands, and… cries. I didn’t know he could cry.

“Woah, woah, hey, it’s okay.” I crawl awkwardly over the air mattress to sit next to him. I don’t really know how to do this, but I’m going to give it my best shot. Gently, I place my hand on his shoulder and rub my thumb in a soothing manner, I think. Like what they do on TV?

“It’s okay, I forgive you.”

“Kaí kho z̀eír leyú.”  _ I am a…  _ he drops his hands and leans his head back, staring at the ceiling. His antennae are drooping lifelessly at the sides of his head, I’ve never seen them do that before.

“No, you’re not.” I don’t know what he said, but I can use context clues. “Look at me, Zim, look at me!” He looks away, gasping for breath, his hands shaking. I soften my voice, and reach forward with my other hand to guide his face back towards mine. His eyes look so dark and aimless, and filled with shame.

“I am.” He whispers, pushing my hand away from his face. It’s hard to see in this light, but his tears are almost unrealistically blue, like tiny drops of a tropical shore on a sunny day.

“I… I don’t believe that. I think you have been-”

“You do not know me.” He hisses, glancing at me for a second before turning back away.

“Sure.” I sigh. “Maybe I don’t know anything about you, but I think I know enough about judging character to tell that you are  _ not _ a bad person. Irken. Whatever.” He doesn’t say anything, and continues to stare silently into nothingness. I scoot the last few inches to fully sit next to him and recline against the back of the couch so we sit side by side. He’s shaking, with every deep and rattling breath he takes I can feel the couch vibrate. He’s rubbing his hands together with such fervor I’m worried he’ll rip one of his fingers off, so I reach over and place my hand over his. Gently, I’m able to actually hold his hand and rub my thumb against the back of his hand, and he slowly begins to calm down. Deeper and slower breaths, and the shaking subsides as we sit together in the dim light of the living room.

“I am sorry.” He says, so quietly I could mistake it for the wind outside.

“Why? There’s no need to be sorry.”

“I have… scare you. All day and night.”

“No you haven’t.” His hand squeezes tighter around mine, and he takes a deep breath.

“I near kill you.” His voice cracks.

“No.” I lean forward so quickly it’s almost as if the couch was on fire. “Listen to me.” His eyes slowly lock onto mine. “That was an accident, and I forgive you. I  _ forgive _ you, do you understand?” He nods. “Look, I know that you have obviously been through… something, and I don’t know what it is, and you don’t have to tell me, but it’s not your fault. It’s just not.”

“How do you know that.”

“I just do.” I lean back against the couch and relax my posture. “My mom died when I was thirteen. She had breast cancer.”

“What is that?”

“Oh, it’s when… your body is made of little things, right? We call them cells.”

“Yes?”

“Yeah, cancer is when those cells grow without ever stopping. The cells are… wrong.”

“Oh. That is chiz̀eídoízhoílaolkeí on Irk. It is old chiukh.”

“That’s one hell of a mouthful.” He laughs softly.

“Yes.”

“Anyway, she was sick for a long time, and near the end she had so many procedures and drugs and she was so sick… She just wasn’t herself anymore, and I was so tired of the constant stress, and all the times that I was told to say goodbye to her, that I wanted it to be over. She wasn’t my mom anymore, her brain didn’t work right. Then, I told my dad that I wanted her to die. He said he understood, and my therapist said that that was normal, but when she finally did die… It was awful. In the days following her death I felt so regretful.” I can feel the tears coming to my eyes, but I know I have to continue. 

“I missed her, and I realized I was wrong and how could I say such a horrible thing? I felt like a monster. She was my mother, and I loved her.” Now I can feel Zim’s hand tightening around mine. 

“I felt so guilty. Like it was my fault, like I got what I wanted.”

“But it was not your fault.” He says.

“Obviously. Of course it wasn’t. That’s where I’m going with this, Zim. My childhood 

was traumatic. It wasn’t my fault that she died, but it took me years of therapy to stop feeling like such a monster that wasted my last months with my mother still alive. I still feel guilty, and I don’t know if that feeling will ever go away, but I have to tell myself that my trauma was not my fault.” I can feel my energy draining away with all of these emotions, and I find myself leaning on Zim’s shoulder.

“My feelings towards her when she was sick was not my fault. Your reactions to being scared are not your fault. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good. You are a good person, Zim. Whatever happened before now, it is in the past.”

“I am not, though,”

“Oh, for God’s sake, I’m too tired for-”

“I kill my father. That was my fault.” Somehow it is quieter in this room then it ever has been, and Zim stiffens against me as he continues to talk.

“I kill him. He is dead, because of me. I did that.”

“Why?” I whisper.

“He was bad.”

“Did he hurt you?” Silence. “Zim, did he hurt you?”

“He hurt my mother.” Oh. “Git khí’oízh chiz̀eídoízhoílaolkeí mí chuch veírnaoʻit.”  _ He was cancer in our family. _

“Do you feel guilty?”

“No. That is why I am bad, too.”

“Well, I still forgive you.” He scoffed at this and leaned his head on mine.

“I do not know why.”

“Because… sometimes in situations like that, you gotta do what you gotta do. I don’t know how that all went down, sure, but from what I know about you, if he didn’t deserve it you would feel guilty. I don’t think you’re a monster, Zim.”

“Hmm.”

“Let’s change the subject. Do you want to watch a movie?” I don’t know how, but somehow I can sense that he smiled.

“Yes, please.”

“Alrighty then, come on, you.” I move to get up and help Zim up, but like usual, he’s already standing and offering me a hand.

“Thanks.”

“Al kha sis.”

“So I was thinking, given the  _ atmosphere _ of tonight that we watch a comedy.” Zim settles in his usual spot, on the right side of the couch, leaning against the arm. After I grab the remote, I go to sit on the other side, but given everything that’s happened, I sit closer to him just in case he needs a hand to hold.

“What is a comedy?”

“Something funny, you know, ‘ha ha ha?’”

“Ah, I understand.”

“Yep! I don’t own this movie so I’m going to have to rent it.” I mumble under my breath as I navigate through all the right pages to get to where I want to be, finally finding, renting, and settling down under a blanket to watch it. 80’s style electronic music fills the room, and a montage of machinery appears on the screen, opening credits along the way.

“What does that say?” Zim says.

“A Turman-Foster Company.”

“What about that?”

“Short Circuit. That’s the title, you’ll like it, I promise.”

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She was right, I do like it. I don’t understand some of the words, of course, but I can grasp the general plot of the movie. I don’t know how humans have been able to make robots that look real, but can’t make actual robots. Gaz has explained to me that they’re fake, some sort of ‘movie magic’ she says, but I’m still baffled by it. The robot in this film, ‘Johnny 5’ looks real enough, but even if it was real, It also looks far too primitive to fix anything still wrong with Gir. Unfortunately. I can only do my best with the limited tools I have.

Gaz said this movie was made ‘thirty years ago’, which is why the technology looks so old. I had the good knowledge not to say that her technology  _ still  _ looks old, but yes, this does look older. I did learn something useful about this though, that this planet has some sort of army or military. Gaz confirmed this was real. I’m making a mental note to avoid them, considering that this planet is apparently pre-contact.

I haven’t heard of a pre-contact planet in a long time. Of course I know that they exist, but I suppose that given the all encompassing size of the Irken Empire that such a thing is almost a ghost of the past. That means that this planet is far enough away that I’ll never have to worry about them again. Good.

“Mmmm…” Gaz mumbles in her sleep. According to the time-keeping device on the table, she’s been asleep for thirty four earth minutes, or a little less than half an hour to me. In her sleep she has fallen against my shoulder, and I don’t dare move her. She is unlike anything I have ever seen before, and somehow there is a familiarity around her that is comforting. I can’t believe how lucky I must’ve been for her to have found me, as I still don’t feel deserving of her care. No matter what she says, I know I don’t deserve it.

For the first time though, I do feel safe and calm. No obligations or missions, or father… Just this house, and this young planet, and Gaz.

She has fur only on her head, long fur, which is strange, and it’s a dark purple. The roots of the fur are black, so I have a feeling she has changed the color of her fur as some sort of earth beauty ritual. I must agree it is quite captivating, and soft… Although I am unused to the odd shade of her skin, and her small eyes, I find her face pretty. She is smart, confident, and calm in the face of stress, and I suppose that makes her even more so in my eyes. As I run my fingers through her fur, and watch this silly movie about robots that do not actually exist, I feel that for the first time my life has gone in a better direction.

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“Jesuc Christ this is taking forever. What’s next on the docket?”

“Sir, yes Sir! We suggest that we investigate the college in the next town over, sir. There are two hundred and thirty six women that fit our parameters there, sir.” The soldier saluted and stepped back.

“Good lord, that's a lot of women. Any way we can cut that number down?”

“I don’t understand, sir.”

“Shit, private, you know what, find out how many of them have missed a class after the friday of the crash.”

“Uhhh…” He types in his computer briefly. “Fifty two women missed at least one class in the next seven days following the crash.”

“How about the next three days?”

“Twelve.”

“Wonderful! Print out those names, round up the troops, and let’s find this girl! Just to be safe, give me the names of everybody else too.”

“Yes, Sir!”


	10. Painting

“…saí chin ezo…” My pillow feels so much harder than usual.  
“…affle…” Who is talking?  
“…i, chin chucha…” Zim has such a nice voice.  
“I want waffles!” Gir screams, and my eyes snap open. I must’ve fallen asleep on the couch, because I’m in the living room. Gir is standing behind the coffee table, screaming about waffles or something. It’s definitely Zim’s turn to handle this, where is he? Suddenly, my pillow shifts, and Zim’s voice emerges from just behind my head.  
“Al kha itoí úchuth daov etho, al eíʻaorso’ukh.” Shit shit shit shit shit. Am I on Zim? Why!? What happened last night? We started watching Short Circuit… and… Shit. I would give anything to be able to die right now before I have to deal with any further embarrassing conversations. Maybe I can just pretend to be asleep.  
“Good morning, Gaz.” There goes that plan. Gir continues to scream in the background, but I can barely hear it over my blood pounding.  
“Good morning, Zim.” I whisper. Finally realizing that I should probably get off of him, I start making moves to sit up. Of course, Zim immediately helps, seemingly with no effort at all.  
“Thanks.” His shirt is all wrinkled, and he shakes his left hand ever so slightly. I guess Irkens also get pins and needles. He coyly smiles, and I can feel my face heat up with embarrassment.  
“You’re welcome. Sleep good?” His smile widens, and I have a bad feeling he’s going to milk this for all it’s worth.  
“Yeah… How did you know I was awake?” He shrugs.  
“Your air is more fast, then you go from blanket, to floor.” I was breathing faster, then I… what?  
“What? I didn’t fall to the floor, Zim.” He frowns, and his antennae twitches.  
“No, you go from blanket… Gir, penleg buch!” Gir quits his incessant screaming about waffles, and bolts from the kitchen back into the living room. When he salutes, his eyes shine red briefly before he slumps back into his normal position.  
“Mi, lesi!” Gir says this every time Zim talks to him, so I think it means yes sir or something, but Zim doesn’t seem to like that because he always follows it up with-  
“Finú tuzit kaí chin.” Don’t call me that. “Ngaí Gaz, chin kaí suzh gach khí’oízh riv rich gach aoízh gifeí ngoí gach eploínseí’oízh.” Gir turns to me, always so happy to be helpful.  
“He says that you were stiff when you woke up!” Oh okay. ‘From blanket to floor’, I was stiff. That’s great! I never want to talk to anyone again.  
“Oh…” I murmur as Zim laughs, and I want to punch him.  
“Well, I’m glad you think this is funny!”  
“It is! You sleep like baby!”  
“Well, why didn’t you move me? You couldn’t have slept very well.” Now it’s his turn to flush with embarrassment.  
“Ah… Well, you… I did not want to wake you.” He mumbles. Now I’m mad because that was so sweet I don’t know how to follow that up.  
“I’m sorry that I fell asleep like that.” He immediately shakes his head and leans forward.  
“No, no! It is good, I am good.” He nods assuredly, and smiles.  
“Well, I’m sorry for keeping you awake.”  
“You did not wake me.” He tilts his head, confused.  
“I mean, you must’ve fallen asleep after me, and you’re awake now. Hey, exactly how long do Ir- uh, your people sleep anyway?” He winces, even though I avoided the dreaded ‘I’ word, even replacements for it seem to elicit some sort of reaction from him.  
“Same as human, I am not a good sleep.”  
“Do you have insomnia or something?”  
“Eh, what?” Definitely a leap to think he knows what insomnia is.  
“Gir, come back!” The rustling in my bedroom (I don’t want to know) halts and the   
living adderall ad comes bounding back.  
“Yes, pretty lady?” He squeals.  
“Don’t call me that.” Guess Zim and I both have a similar call-and-response routine going. “Ask Zim if he has insomnia.” Gir nods, and moves closer to Zim.  
“Lesi, fin al vaí veízbusukh?” Zim rolls his eyes.  
“Finú tuzit kaí chin.” He says with exasperation, turning to me as he speaks. “No, I do not have that. I have… síaí yí mijetaícheí.”  
“What is that?” I catch Gir by the arm as he begins to walk away. From boredom, I think. He beams when I talk to him, and I must admit that annoying as he may be, he’s beginning to grow on me.  
“Síaí yí mijetaícheí are nightmares!” He says everything in such a happy tone.  
“I see. Come here, I’m gonna need you for this conversation.” I settle Gir on my lap so he doesn’t run away, and he happily kicks his legs in the air as I turn back to Zim.  
“You had a sih-aa-ih yih meejet-something last night, right?” His antennae droop down as I ask him.  
“Yes, I am sorry, I did not want to wake you.” Ignoring Gir’s attempts to bruise my shins, I continue.  
“It’s alright Zim. There’s nothing to be sorry for, I understand.” He nods. “Do you have nightmares often?”  
“Yes.”  
“Are they always about your father?” I try to soften my voice, I want Zim to feel calm and safe. I haven’t figured out why I want to do that, though.  
“No. It is not for you to know. It is not good.” His eyes harden, and he frowns. “I know you see good, but I am not good.”  
“For the last time, that’s not true. Gir, tell him that mistakes, or trauma, or whatever bad thing in his life that happened to him does not make him a bad person.”  
“Gach la chin yí waota, yí gíneích, sír shech yí yoa mí a li finú shi al z̀eír shech kao.” As Gir delivers his translation, Zim’s face softens, and his eyes sadden.  
“Woíʻa kaí finoízhú shi yí waota, re finoízh shech yí yoa?” Zim snaps his fingers.  
“What if I did not make mistakes, but did bad things?” Gir yells. His shrieking voice cuts into this conversation with the delicateness of a food fight.  
“Then I still forgive you.” I say with a finger snap.  
“Źeírmaí kaí zhí úshúj al.” Gir parrots. Zim closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath.  
“Thank you.” He murmurs.  
“You’re welcome.” His eyes meet mine, and a slight smile traces his lips. “Is there any way to help your nightmares?” Weirdly, his face flushes and he looks away.  
“Well, yes. I uh, I had more good sleep last night... with you.” His skin gets even darker and I feel the heat in my cheeks as well.  
“That’s um. That’s good then.” I clear my throat.  
“Hmm. Thank you for help with my nightmare. It was not one good.”  
“Lesí has never slept well!” Gir cuts in. “Yeízhazi says that he-”  
“Chin khí shiye, Gir.” Zim says, unnervingly calmly. I know better than to ask.  
“If you ever need me again, um, feel free to wake me up. I used to have sleep paralysis, so I know how scary night terrors and the like can get.”  
“What is sleep paralysis?”  
“Uh, Gir? Sleep paralysis?” The kicking into my shins momentarily stops as he listens, then resumes as he speaks.  
“Veíz údaízhoulkeí.”  
“Ah.” Zim nods with understanding. “That is not fun.”  
“Yeah. Um, I’m gonna go get dressed,” I release Gir, who bounds off back towards my room. “I have that class this afternoon so I’m going to have to finish that portrait. You good to sit still for another hour?” He cracks a smile.  
“That is fine for me.”  
“Great, I’ll be right back.”

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

“General, your phone?” General Drewey snaps out of his concentration on the list of names, and grabs his ringing phone off the folding table. He nods his thanks at me and answers the call.  
“Hello?” He puts out his cigarette as he speaks, and motions for some low level soldiers to leave the tent. I am getting so sick and tired of this manhunt for the Occupant. I don’t think we’re ever going to find it.  
“Doctor Norton! How good to hear your voice. How is prep back at the base?” That creepy doctor keeps calling the general every damn day for an update on the search.  
“Wonderful. You have all the needed tools and such?” Word between the soldiers is the good doctor is itching to get his hands on the Occupant.  
“Uh, and how many of those do you need exactly?” If the Occupant really is intelligent, it probably knows to stay far away.  
“I see. I’ll make sure that happens, doc. We’re close now, I can feel it. We’re coming up on a university now-” I almost hope it knows to stay away.  
“Yes, of course. I’ll be sure to notify you straight away. Have a good day, doctor.”  
“What did he want now?” I ask. It’s never something good.  
“Something about ‘quality of bone saws’. I don’t know, medical jargon is not for me.   
My job is to find this bastard.”  
“He called you to complain about bone saws?” Doesn’t he have anything better to do?  
“Yeah, he wanted me to order more. Diamond tipped ones I think he said. I’ll get one of   
the privates to do it. Major, just remind me when we’re done with the itinerary, okay?”   
“Yes sir. As I was saying, I’ve plotted out the most logical order for us to interview the twelve most likely candidates based on apartment building and number of-”  
“I don’t care about the details, major. Who are we talking to first?”  
“Five of the girls live in the same apartment building, Breanna Holgerson, Lauren Rodriguez, Luneta Macleod, Gazlene Membrane, and Elise Dimitrov. I think we should start there. Breanna and Luneta live on the first floor, so I would start with them.”  
“Membrane… Isn’t that the name of the tech wizard out in LA?”  
“Um, yeah. I doubt it’s of relation, though.” I think the professor had kids, but now I can’t remember.  
“Doesn’t matter. Tell the troops to pack up and roll out, we’ve got an occupant to catch. How far away is the college?”  
“Only a twenty minute drive, sir. Accounting for the time needed to pack up, we should be there in an hour or so.”  
“Good. Looking forward to it.”

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

“Okay, um, shoes.” I’m almost done with the portrait, just a few pieces of shading needed, and to pass the time for Zim while I draw him, I have him sitting on the couch with Gir while I teach him English. I say a word, Gir translates, Zim learns. Zim says a word, Gir translates, I learn. Well, we both learn. It’s easy! He doesn’t even need to absorb the information all that much.  
“Yí ‘ateích!” Whenever Gir speaks he kicks his legs up like a toddler. It’s kinda cute, not gonna lie. Zim nods, thinks a bit, then selects a word.  
“Yí aílaícheí.” Gir spins his head back to me, and responds.  
“Socks!”  
“Why do you guys keep saying that word?” I ask.  
“What word?” Zim tilts his head, one antennae higher than the other.  
“The um, the ‘Yih’ word.”  
“It is a… It is…” He gives up and turns to Gir. “Irketsi fitwi z̀eír epluch jov daov ngoízh shi yí jova tomíli.”  
“Irketsi uses a separate word to help make words plural!” Gir’s design is certainly interesting. He has a blue line shaped like a slight smile, that lights up every time he talks. His eyes are big round circles with some sort of camera shutter behind them, because the amount of the eye that is fully lit changes depending on Gir’s ‘emotions’. They are typically in a happy position. I think.  
“Oh, interesting. Is it all words? Or just some?”  
“Some words. You, me, Gir, socks.” He smiles. So, nouns. Other languages have nouns. I guess that makes sense.  
“Cool. Gir, translate ‘painting.’” I’m almost done, just a few more touches here and there.  
“Ireílkeí!”  
“Chúdez.” Zim responds.  
“Artist!”  
“I’m an artist, you know?” Zim nods.  
“I know.”  
“How about, photograph?”  
“Eítwemud!” I don’t think Gir is capable of speaking quietly.  
“Aofaoya.” In contrast, Zim’s voice can be quite soft when he’s in deep thought, although he has gotten extremely loud when he freaks out.  
“Gorgeous!” Gir squeals.  
“Gir!” Zim yells, and I glance up to see him frown at Gir, his face darkening. “Finú gepwe chin!” Don’t translate that!   
“What did you say?” Zim looks embarrassed, and I bite back a laugh.  
“Eh, the - the painting there,” He points at a watercolor painting of a bouquet of flowers. “It is gore-gee-ous.” He sounds the word out, and winces. Sure…  
“Okay.” I smile and go back to my portrait, occasionally casting the occasional look at him. He’s fiddling with his hands, and there’s that telltale darkening of his skin. “Gir, translate ‘completed.’” I admire my work as I speak, being careful to keep it out of Zim’s line of sight.  
“Ulchina!” Zim looks up from his hands, his antennae shooting straight up, and slightly forward.  
“Ulchina?” He repeats.  
“Yep!” I stand up and walk over to the couch. “Move over, Gir.” Gir hops off the couch, squealing something about monkeys and runs into the other room. “Here,” I hand Zim his portrait. “What do you think?” He takes it in his hand, and stares at it in silence. I must say, I’m quite proud of how it turned out. In the picture, Zim’s face is tilted away, his eyes looking at something to the left, past the page. I used heavy shadowing to make his face almost melt into the background, making his skin stand out even more by contrast. The picture is fairly realistic, and although I draw his scars, I try to diminish their appearance to slight scratches on the skin. His expression is peaceful, mouth in a slight smile, and eyelids lowered, as if he’s just a little bit tired. My favorite part is his eyes, they’re strange and alluring, in a way. The vibrant color of red is so unearthly and entrancing, I could look at them all day…  
“So, what do you think?” I snap my attention back to the real Zim, who hasn’t moved since I handed him the picture. He doesn’t say anything. Leaning in and gently touching his shoulder, I try again. “Zim? What do you think?” He seems to slowly register me, and turns to look at me.  
“It is, well, it is beautiful.” He says, quietly.  
“Really? You like it?”  
“It is the more good, um, painting for me.”   
“What?” I think he’s trying to say ‘the best picture’, but that can’t be right… right? “Gir?” The little robot comes bounding back out of the kitchen, yet another pot on his head. I gesture towards Gir, and Zim sighs and blushes.  
“Git khí’e noch ireílkeí no kaí chin kaí vaí miz ‘oí’oízh.”  
“He says it’s the best painting of him that Lesi has ever seen!” Zim closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his ‘nose’.  
“You really think that?”  
“Ooooh, it is a nice picture!” Gir shrieks.  
“Yes,” Zim’s left antennae twitches. “All painting before are… chuchach nulchew to gifeí.”  
“Gir?” I had to catch him by the arm, again, to keep him from escaping.  
“Lesi says they’re too formal and stiff!” Zim mutters something under his breath, probably ‘don’t call me that’. Still haven’t asked what that means, I need to add that to the list.  
“Well, thank you. You’ll be able to keep it, if you’d like, after it gets graded. I’m totally going to get an A for this ‘creative creature’ contest.” He smirks.  
“Yes? I can keep it?”  
“Of course you can. It’s all yours.” I gently place the picture on the coffee table and release Gir to do God-knows-what in the kitchen.  
“Thank you.” Zim murmurs. The sunlight from the window backlights his head, making him have this unearthly glow to him. I have to lean in a little bit to avoid the sun from getting in my eyes.  
“You’re welcome, in fact I should be thanking you, you sat still for me.” This close I can really see the creases and dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. All of his tiny scars, knicks, and scratches are all the more apparent. His skin is like a painful map of his past.  
“You are a good artist. More than good.” His breath is surprisingly cool, it sends shivers down my spine. I can feel his hands fold around mine, and everything around me feels so still. The birds outside, Gir in the kitchen, it’s like the world is quiet. Still, and peaceful.  
“I could teach you.” I feel the warmth reach my face, and for once I don’t care. He chuckles quietly, just a few bursts of air.  
“I would like that.” His voice is barely louder than a whisper, and his eyes are closing. His hands tighten around mine, and I hold his in return.  
Knock knock! We jump apart, and I feel my brain snap back into place. What was that!? Was he going to… kiss me? What, what, what, what!? Was I going to kiss him? Zim looks a little dazed, and a deep shade of green. I open my mouth to say something, when the knocking at the door repeats.  
“I, um.” I clear my throat. “I’m going to uh, get that.” I point to the door. “You should probably go… somewhere else so whoever’s at the door doesn’t see you.”  
“Okay.” Yeah. We both awkwardly stand up and move our separate directions, I take one last glance at Zim as he wrangles Gir into my room with him, and flash him a reassuring smile before I open the door.


	11. Hello, Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I have not, do not, and unfortunately never will own Invader Zim, or any of the characters or ideas within the property.
> 
> Also, I’m going to do this chapter in third person instead of first, let me know what you guys think! I’ve been on the fence about using 1st, and this chapter was going to be difficult to write with that POV, so here we are
> 
> Warning: LOTS of language.
> 
> Last note: I’ve started a tumblr to post my fanart and general thoughts about writing and my headcanons about this fic. Here’s the blog if you guys want to check it out! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/warandconquest

Dib notes the unusually large military activity while driving through Gaz’s college town. He mentally notes with a grimace that the army has arrived here before he did. However, he could take advantage of this by following soldiers in real time to see who they interviewed and why. But first, Gaz.  _ Sure she won’t be pleased to see me, _ he thinks,  _ but I might be able to convince her to come along with the promise of pizza…  _ When he arrives at Gaz’s apartment, he parks his car in the visitor spot that’s furthest from the black army SUV’s nearest the door. Great, they’re at the apartment too. Dib gathers his notes and heads towards the building. Not wanting to be seen by any soldiers, he slips in through a back door. Courtesy to Membrane Labs’ suped up lock picking set.

He can hear people in the hall, around the corner, quiet whispers of questions and knocking. There’s immense temptation to go and demand answers from the soldiers, but he knows from experience that’s a course of action that will lead nowhere. Luckily, there’s a set of stairs near where he is, and he walks up to the third floor.

Gaz’s apartment is near the elevators, for the purpose of avoiding as many neighbors as possible. She’s not the most sociable of people. Dib walks up to her door and mutters a silent prayer that she won’t be  _ too _ annoyed by his sudden appearance. He knocks. A strange noise catches his attention, and Dib presses his ear to the door.

“…going to… probably… somewhere else…” Snippets of the mysterious conversation slip into the hall.

“Okay.” A deeper, masculine voice answers Gaz.  _ Who is that? _ _ Gaz doesn’t know any men! _ Dib loses his concentration and focuses on figuring out who could be in her apartment until the door suddenly opens.

“Shit!” Dib explains as he falls forward toward Gaz, thankfully able to grab onto the door frame at the last moment. Gaz looks furious. Her eyes furrowed with her fists clenched at her sides. Dib instinctively steps back, and Gaz immediately steps forward and closes the door, crossing her arms.

“What are you doing here, Dib?” She looks a little flustered and has paint on her fingertips.  _ Shit, I interrupted her art session.  _ He fumbles with his coat and straightens his posture, hoping for some semblance of confidence.

“Well, um, I was just passing through and-uh, aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“No, I’m not. Don’t try to lie to me. You were in Wisconsin last week. Last time I checked, that’s nowhere near here.” He mentally slaps himself for that blunder as she taps her foot impatiently on the ground. Dib doesn’t know it, but Gaz is nervous. Dib is obsessed with this kind of stuff… does he know that Zim is here? Does he want to study him,  _ dissect _ him? How does he know? He never comes to visit, so why now?

“Okay okay… so  _ maybe _ I was lying about that, but for the record I was in Montana last week, not Wisconsin.”

“I could not care less.”

“Um, rude. Seriously though, I’m kind of thirsty so can I please-”  
“I said no, Dib. Quit asking.” She rolls her eyes, and leans against the door.

“Jeez, okay.” He raises his hands in a defensive position, and clears his throat. “So, I’m following this really interesting case, I mean, you won’t believe what’s going on!”

“Yeah, I’m sure I won’t.” She says dryly. “Look Dib, I’m not interested in how bigfoot teleported from Montana or whatever. I want to know why you’re at my apartment. Bothering me.” Gaz wants Dib to  _ leave _ , before Zim loses control of Gir.

“I’m trying to tell you! A week ago, there was this-” A loud clang, like metal following to the floor, comes from the apartment, followed by some harsh whispering. Gaz winces. That didn’t last long.

“Um. What was that?”

“It must… I left the TV on. It’s the uhh, anthology of… loud… sounds?” Dib raises an eyebrow in disbelief as Gaz frowns. Lying was never her strong suit, she’s always been too upfront about things to ever get any real practice.

“Gaz, come on. I heard you talking to someone earlier when I got here.”

“You were eavesdropping on me?”  _ Shit. _ _ That was not a clever thing to say. _

“N-No! Of course not!” He laughs weakly and takes a step back. “I could just hear it as I walked up.” Some more noises come out of her apartment, some sort of word synthesizer, although it’s hard to make out what it’s saying, and more whispering. Dib struggles to hear what the person is saying, but it’s too quiet, and possibly in another language.

“Sure, Dib.”

“So… there  _ is _ someone in there?” He points at the door, and cracks a grin.

“It’s none of your business Dib. Ugh, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if it makes you 

feel better, what exactly are you investigating?” Dib’s face lights up, easily distracted at the chance of explaining his important work to his sister.

“I intercepted this signal and-Oh, I can’t tell you  _ here _ Gaz!” He gestures down the hall at the other doors. “There’s too many witnesses!”

“Dib, I assure you, that all of those people are too sleep-deprived to care about whatever this is about.”

“You don’t know that!” He whines.

“Yes I do. This is a college apartment building. You know, if you’re not going to tell me, I’m just going to go inside.”

“Fine.” Dib leans in and whispers. “My scanners picked up this strange atmospheric disturbance… now as you know I’ve worked really hard on those, and they’re my babies, and I know they never get any readings wrong, but just in case I had to go through diagnostics for like an hour, and-”  
“Dib, I don’t care. Skip to the important parts. Your breath is annoying.”

“Okay, okay. I um, check the scanners, and guess what I found!”

“I’m not playing the guessing game.”

“You’re no fun. A spaceship crashed near here, just over a week ago!” Dib grinned ecstatically, and Gaz pinched her leg to keep her face neutral.  _ Shit _ .

“So?” Please don’t say you know about Zim…

“Well, get this: the government didn’t find the alien, so they don’t know where it is! It could be anywhere!” So he doesn’t know. Good. “Now I’ve been tracking the army, and they’re going from town to town interviewing seemingly random people, but only women, and I thought that was odd, so I…”  _ Shit, shit, double shit!  _ Gaz panics inside her head, thankfully knowing how to keep her poker face.  _ Why only women? Do they know something? How? Are they dangerous? They must not know that much if they haven’t just come directly.  _ “…and so that brings me here!”  _ Damn, I completely zoned out. _

“Ah, okay. Sorry, why does that bring you here? To my apartment, specifically?”

“Oh, well the army is here, so I was going to follow them more closely to see who they were investigating and why, and I figured I’d stop by and visit you! Maybe bribe you with some pizza to come along?” To Gaz, the whole world around her was filled with static, Dib’s voice just barely coming through the fog. 

“The… the army is here? In this town?” Don’t panic, don’t panic.

“Oh yeah! They’re actually in this building downstairs, so you won’t have to go far if you want to come-”

“What!? In this building?”

“Well, yeah, like I said, they’ve only investigated women, and they must have some sort of DNA sample that they’re following that eliminates other women.”

“How did they get DNA?” Her teeth are clenched, and every word she says comes out as a loud and hoarse whisper.

“I don’t know! I wasn’t able to get anywhere near the ship, I suspect it’s some sort of blood sample.” Gaz rubs her temples as more noises emanate from the apartment, the same pattern as before, the electronic noise followed by the man, whispering what sounds like admonishments.

“God I’m such an idiot…” Gaz muttered. The cut on her hand must have been how they got it.

“What? Um, you know what, you look angry, I’ll come back later.” Dib takes a step back, nervously clasping his hands together.

“No, no, I need you to come in, actually.”

“Really? Can I get some water?” Gaz turns around to unlock the door, and takes a deep breath to retain her strong demeanor.

“Sure, Dib, whatever.” She opens the door about an inch, then turns back. “Listen to me carefully.” Her voice is like steel, and her eyes bore into Dib’s skull. “Do not make any sounds. Do not do something stupid like scream, and just… be calm. Okay?” Dib nods, confused, and prepares himself for some sort of terrifying artwork.

Gaz opens the door another inch, and speaks into her apartment through the crack.

“Hey, I’m coming in now, and I’m bringing someone else with me. Can you guys go into my room? Or the kitchen?” 

“I am trying! Gir want to play with the kitchen metal!” Dib reels in shock from the response. It’s the same masculine voice from earlier, only now he can hear it better. The speaker has a strange accent, like if french and russian had a baby? That was raised by kantonese? There’s really no comparison.

“Um, did you get him?” Gaz responds. Sounds of metal scraping on tile and the electronic voice screeching follows, then finally, silence.

“I have him, I am in the kitchen.” He responds. Gaz sighs, then opens the door quickly, gesturing for Dib to follow. As soon as he’s within the threshold, she slams the door shut and locks it.

“Who’s Gir?” Dib asks, incredibly confused by what’s happening. Who are these people?

“Dib, be quiet. Listen to me, I’m going to show you something, you are going to stay calm. Do you understand?”

“Uh, yeah, I get that.”  _ What is happening?  _

“Who is that?” Zim yells from the kitchen. Without taking her eyes of Dib, Gaz responds.

“He’s my brother.”  
“What is a brother?”

“Ask Gir. I’m busy.” She says, sounding exasperated.

“Who is that? Who is he talking to?” Dib starts asking question after question while Zim gets his translation. “What language is that? Is that a computer talking? Why are you acting so weird?”

“Dib, for the last time. Shut. Up.” Gaz growls. “Come on.” She leads Dib to the kitchen, and all hell breaks loose. Dib rounds the corner to the kitchen, and if it could, his jaw would’ve hit the ground. Zim is standing in the middle of the kitchen, holding a squirming and shrieking Gir against his chest. His face is completely devoid of emotion, but he looks as if he’s studying Dib, or simply waiting for Dib to attack. 

“New buddy!” Gir screams with happiness when he spots Dib, as Dib just about has a mental breakdown.

“Th-th-th-that’s an a-a-alien!” Dib squeaks as he points a shaking finger at Zim.

“Congratulations Dib, you’ve won a gold medal for Observation of the Year.” Gaz retorts, she takes a few steps towards Zim, like a makeshift buffer between the two men, just in case Dib completely flips out. 

“I just- but it’s-”  _ What the fuck. What is going on. An alien is here. Alien.  _ Dib runs his fingers through his hair as he takes a few deep breaths to calm down. He clasps his hands together in front of his chest, breathes deeply, and turns to Gaz.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU HAD AN ALIEN?” Gir joins into Dib’s screaming, Zim flinches from the explosion of noise, and Gaz sighs.

“First of all, I don’t ‘have’ him.”

“This is your brother?” Zim smirks, and finally releases Gir, who immediately sits on the floor and stares at Dib. “You are not the same at all.” Gaz shoots him a look, and turns back to continue lecturing Dib.

“And I didn’t tell you because  _ obviously _ you would react this way!”

“My reaction is justified!” Gaz rolls her eyes. “It could be dangerous! Gaz, think of humanity here! What if he just wants to… enslave the human race? Destroy earth? Kill us all? Did you think of that?” Zim frowns and takes a threatening step forward.

“Oíz nútwaothu al! I will  _ never _ do that!”

“Oh yeah? I bet you're just saying that! What evil plans do you have,  _ alien. _ ”

“I think I am making one.” He growls.

“Okay!” Gaz steps in between them, internally hoping that this doesn’t devolve into a fight. “Cut it out, idiots. We have more important things to deal with than your egos.”

“Hey!” “Ao!” They yelled together.

“You,” Gaz points to Zim. “Quit antagonizing him. Remember, no other aliens on this planet, you’re the first he’s ever seen. And you!” She whips around to face Dib. “Calm down! Keep acting like a wuss and I’ll make sure that portrayal ends up in any future ‘first contact’ documentaries, got it?”

“Got it.” He grumbled.

“Good, now explain to me what is going on with the army.”

“The army…” Dib’s eyes widen. “Holy shit the  _ army! _ ”

“Yes Dib, the-”  
“They’re in this building, right now! They’re looking for him!” He frantically begins pacing back and forth in the kitchen.

“Army? What army?” Zim questions.

“The human army!” Dib stops to face Gaz. “You need to make him leave. If those guys find out he’s with you, who knows what they’ll do to you!”

“I’m not kicking him out, Dib!”

“They’re going to come ask questions, and if they see him-”

“That doesn’t matter, don’t you get it? You said yourself they have a DNA sample?” Gaz raised her hand and pointed at her nearly healed palm. “I cut my hand on the ship, that must be how they got the sample. With him or without him, they’ll know I was there.”

“Wait, the ship?” Dib turned to Zim. “You have a ship?”

“No… I go through space, with no ship.” Zim deadpans.

“Well where is it? Maybe if the army sees him leaving they’ll stop looking for him.”

“Dib, the army has the ship. DNA sample, remember?” He frowns.

“Oh, right.”

“Why are we talking nothing? There is one army in this building and we are sitting here. We need to go.” Zim says.

“Fuck. We really do, don’t we. There goes my college education…” Gaz murmurs. Zim puts a hand on her shoulder, and speaks in a low reassuring tone.

“I am sorry, but it is need.”

“I know. Okay, I’m going to pack some clothes. Zim, pack up, get ready to leave. Dib, I would suggest you leave before you get caught up in this.” Gaz walks out of the kitchen, Gir following her, leaving Dib standing alone with Zim.

“So… you’re Zim?”

“Yes.” Dib nods to himself, in a reassuring manner.

“What planet are you from?”

“ … I am going to pack now.” Zim says, and swiftly walks past Dib into the living room. 

With nothing better to do except for contemplation of the future destruction of the human race, Dib follows out into the living room to observe this possible threat. To Dib, the alien seems unnervingly quick and calculated, a neat stack of clothing seemed to be his only possessions, demonstrating that he was ready to leave at a moment’s notice already. Zim places the clothes in a nearby shopping bag, grabs a metallic and rather alien looking briefcase that was hidden in a corner, and places his cargo by the door.

“What is that thing on your back?” Dib asks.

“It is a PAK. Gaz say the long name is hard to say.”

“What does it do?”

“Many things. It has helping hands, and has things I need.” Zim says as he reaches behind his back. A small mechanical whirring is briefly heard, and Zim pulls his hand back, now holding an object.

“Um. What is that?” Dib says as Zim inspects it and presses a few buttons.

“Help.” Zim states, and seemingly happy with it, he tucks it into the back of his pants.

“Yeah, is that a gun?”  
“I do not know that word.”

“Oh for  _ fuck’s sake- _ ”

“Alright.” Gaz emerges from her bedroom with Gir and a suitcase, shutting the door behind her. “Let’s go.”

“Hey Gaz, I think your alien has-”

“Dib, not my priority right now. We need to leave.” She walks past him to the door, stopping to peer through the peephole, and immediately takes a step back. “Shit.” She whispers.

“What is it?” Zim takes a few cautionary steps towards the door, reaching for his gun,  _ just in case- _

A few loud knocks at the door jars Zim from his thoughts, and someone speaks from the other side.

“This is major Ian Johnson, we’re investigating a local disturbance with the police. May we come in?” Zim steps closer to the door in perfect, practiced silence, gesturing for Gaz to walk away from the door. He carefully looks through the peephole, and grimaces at what he sees. He quietly leans down, grabbing his clothes and suitcase with his right hand, and steps back, turning towards the siblings.

“What do we do?” Dib whispers, desperate not to make a sound.

“There’s a fire escape outside my bedroom window.” Gaz replied. “My car isn’t far away from there.” She tiptoes towards her bedroom door, opening it inhumanly slowly, praying for there to be no creaks from the old wood.

“Good.” Zim gently nudges Dib to go to the door, making sure to keep the front door in sight.

Major Johnson knocks again at the door, louder this time. Before he can say anything, Gir’s eyes light up excitedly and he moves towards the door.

“The door is noisy!” The little robot shrieks, and their hope of an easy escape shatters. A pak leg extends, wrapping itself around Gir as Zim moves towards the bedroom. As soon as Gir screamed, Gaz broke into a run for the correct window, pushing it open with such force that the glass shook. She throws her suitcase through the window, climbing out onto the escape quickly after.

“Come on!” She hisses at Dib, as he clumsily climbs out after her, Zim a few feet behind.

The knocks resume at the door, muffled questions from the Major drifting into the bedroom.

“Go! Go!” Zim orders, and the two siblings scuttle down the stairs as he crawls out the window. When he gets through the window, three more pak legs emerge and he easily climbs down the outside of the fire escape, making it to the bottom at the same time as Gaz.

“What the  _ fuck  _ is wrong with your robot?” Dib yells, throwing his hands in the air with exasperation.

“Be quiet.” Zim snarls through clenched teeth.

“Yeah! Quiet!” Gir squeals, still in the clutches of Zim’s pak leg.

“Al chuchach, Gir.” The robot pouts, as Zim turns to Gaz. “Where is the car?”

“Over there!” She points to a far corner of the parking lot. “Come on!” They start running for the car, and halfway there Dib hears something he does  _ not  _ like.

“Holy shit! There it is!” He glances over his left shoulder, and spots a soldier a few hundred feet away that’s staring and pointing at the group of them. Or more specifically, Zim. Almost to the car, almost to the car… a loud but short buzzing noise cuts over the sound of his own heartbeat, and Dib looks to the left again. The soldier that he just saw is lying on the ground, seemingly dead. Dib reaches the car and whirls around in place, an accusatory finger pointing at Zim, who was jogging up behind him.

“Did you  _ kill _ him?” Zim’s alien gun has some glowing lights on it now, indicating that it’s on, and apparently has been used.

“No!” Zim looked offended and annoyed. “He is asleep. Get in car.” Zim flings the backseat door open, tossing his suitcase and Gir inside, quickly gesturing for Dib to follow. Just as Gaz turns the car on, Zim climbs into the passenger seat. She throws the car into reverse and slams on the gas, making the tires squeal as the engine roars. Shifting to drive, she pushes the gas all the way to the floor, and the car takes off.

Dib turns around on his seat to look out the back window.

“Uh, guys? We have a problem.” A small envoy of military vehicles is forming to chase their car. Dib slinks back into his seat, and puts his seatbelt on. He takes a deep breath, and tries not to feel so nauseous.

“Oh you think?” Gaz yells. “We have a  _ problem _ ?” Her concentration on the road in front of her is like steel, her hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly her fingers were turning white. “Because I call the entirety of the goddamn United States military more than a simple fucking problem!” The car turns a sharp right so quickly that the right side wheels leave the ground for a second.

“Big problem.” Zim mutters as he rolls his window down.

“What are you doing?” Dib stammered. Zim pokes his head out the window, twisting his body so he faces the onslaught of military cars.

“Making it little problem.” He aims his gun and shoots, aiming for the tires. Every short buzz of Zim’s gun is followed by the loud pop of a tire, and Dib feels a brief reassurance that they were going to get away until the rear-view glass of Gaz’s car shatters.

“What was that?” He screams in shock. Zim pulls back inside the car as more bullets whiz by.

“They have yí gathaícheí also.”

“ _ What _ ?” Through all the chaos Gir is sitting in his seat, buckled in and blissfully ignorant to everything that’s happening around him.

“Gaz, get down!” Zim orders, pushing her shoulders down as the front windshield shatters.

“Fuck! Zim, I can’t see where I’m going!” Gaz struggles to maintain control of the car and keep a level head, but not seeing the road is not helping. Zim quickly looks through the shattered rear windshield, then fires a few more shots out of his window.

“How many are there?” Dib yells from his spot on the floor in front of the backseat, covering his face to protect himself from glass and bullets.

“What is ‘many’?” Zim retorts while messing with settings on his gun.

“How many  _ fucking _ cars are there? It’s not a hard question!”

Gaz turns a hard left, skidding onto a winding side road. “Shut up, Dib! I didn’t teach him numbers yet!” She would count the vehicles herself, but her rear view mirror got shot out already.

“Why not?” Dib shrieks.

“It wasn’t important!” It’s much harder to maintain the high speeds from the straight road, but she’s hoping that the twisty terrain will be enough to lose clunky army trucks. A few miles ahead there’s a right turn, followed by a tunnel…

“Gir, fin al vaí jeínze yí lepwaorúzineích?” Gir’s eyes flash red, and a panel in the front of his body opens. Gir reaches in, and pulls out a few small round devices, and hands them to Zim.

“Here ya go!” He chirps happily.

Dib scrambles to sit upright in his seat. “What is that!?”

“Problem fix.” Zim holds one of the devices in his hand and presses his thumb to the surface, waiting for a few seconds until it begins to emit a light blue color. He taps it a few more times, then leans out the window and throws it. Dib watches as it sails through the air and lends on the asphalt behind them, sticking to the ground without bouncing as if it were some sort of magnet.

“Uh, is that supposed to-” When the closest army truck got one hundred feet away or so, the little device exploded into a fireball spanning the entire road and then some. Screeching tires and shouts of ‘ _ stop! _ ’ pierce through the roaring of the firewall as Gaz’s car gets farther and farther away.

“Holy shit.” Dib whispers to himself, unable to peel his eyes off the sight.

Gaz shoots Zim a death glare. “Why the hell didn’t you use that sooner?” He shrugs.

“They were so near. They were far now.”

“Oh.” The car falls silent, all the occupants trying to catch their breath and recover in their own way. Except for Gir, who is happily counting the trees passing by the car.

“So… Where are we going?” Dib asked.

“I was thinking that those army guys are probably trying to block us off up ahead, so I’m going to take the side tunnel road coming up. From there I think we should try to get a new car.” Gaz sighs. “Unfortunately I think this one is toast.” Gaz round the corner heading to the tunnel and the metal in the car groans. Both windshields have been completely shattered, and bullet holes riddle the back end of the car. The only rear facing mirror left is the driver’s side one.

“Not only that your car is kind of… ruined, sorry Gaz, but the army definitely has your plates on file. We need to dump this car as soon as possible.”

“I counted many trees!” Gir screamed. “Can we get some food? I’m hungry!” Dib stares at the robot in wonder and confusion.

“Can he actually eat?”

“No.” Gaz and Zim respond in unison. Zim turns around in his seat to face Dib.

“I need to fix him more. He broke when I got to earth.”

“Hey, maybe I can take a look at him for you. I’m kind of good with computers.” The car entered into the tunnel, shrouding the interior with artificial night. The only light to be seen was the soft glow of the dashboard reflecting in Zim’s eyes.

He scoffed. “You can try.”

“AHHH! It’s so dark!” The little robot twisted around in his seat in fear and covered his face with his hands.

“Zhul ezoz, Gir. Git khí isi z̀eír zeʻe.”  _ Calm down, Gir. It’s only a tunnel. _

“Kaí kho wath!”  _ I’m scared! _ Gir rubbed his ‘eyes’ with his hands in mock tears. Dib leaned in to pat a comforting hand on the robot’s back, even though he was incredibly confused about everything that is going on.

“Hey, what’s that language?”

“Irketsi.” Gir’s whimpering dies down and Zim sits back in his seat.

“Cool, cool… And that’s your native language?” He curses himself for having dropped his notes back at Gaz’s apartment.

“Yes.”

“What planet are you from? Why are you-”

“Dib, shut up. Your voice is grating on my ears.” She sighs and runs her hand through her hair. “I am so sick of today.” The car exits the tunnel, and the group is relieved to find no one waiting for them.

“No more dark!” Gir squeals happily.

“Look, there.” Zim points to a diner in the distance. “We can get a car.”

Dib squints at the diner. “Are you seriously suggesting we steal a car in broad daylight?”

“Do you have a better idea?” Gaz mutters. Dib thinks for a few seconds and then shakes his head.

“Not really. Well, maybe when we get there I can finally get my water.”


	12. Panic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Invader Zim, and (probably) never will. Back to Gaz!
> 
> Tw: Panic attack

My car pulls into the diner parking lot and I try to park as far away from the diner as I possibly can. I also want to pick a car to hijack, and discretely, so I park on the left hand side of a secluded subaru. As soon as the car stops Gir wiggles forward in between the seats and screeches in my ear.

“Pretty lady can I get waffles?” Zim, who’s busy checking our surroundings for any noticeable military presence nudges Gir into the backseat.

“Again, you can not eat.” That robot is going to give me tinnitus. Dib does something incredibly useful and restrains Gir in his seat with the seatbelt.

“Okay.” He huffs. “How do we steal a car? And we need to do it  _ now _ before we get caught. Before we get caught! Oh my god I think I’m just now realizing what’s happened. The army is chasing me, er, us! Holy-”

“Dib, please stop!” I need to breathe, he’s freaking me out. In, out. In, and out. Damn, I didn’t even realize I was breathing that fast before. Oh God, this whole thing is insane. I basically just quit college… I’ll never get a degree? What’s going to happen to my apartment? My plants? I need to breathe.

“Gaz.” Zim pulls me out of my thoughts.

Suddenly my throat feels so dry and it takes so much effort to pull my voice out. “Yes?” I sound like I’ve been crying. Or screaming. Maybe I’ve done both. I’m not crying right now, am I? I feel like I’m losing my grip, is Dib talking? I need to breathe.

In.

Out.

In.

Why can’t I breathe? Oh God!

“Gaz.” Two hands clutch my upper arms and Zim’s eyes are staring into mine. Zim. Zim, in all his green and red glory. Breathe. Focus on him. Oh, but my whole life… my whole life is gone. Maybe. I don’t know. What if I don’t even live to see tomorrow? Out, in,  _ breathe. _

“We need to go, Gaz.” What? Go? I don’t want to move. I don’t think I could if I tried, I think I’m shaking. “…khú ripwe’e neírsikh…” That’s Irken. Irketsi. Zim’s language. His voice is nice. Wow, I’m friends with an alien. Didn’t see that one coming.

Wait, where is Zim? He was just sitting there! His seat is empty, I didn’t even notice him leave! Did they leave me behind? Oh my god I was left-

Someone grabs me by the waist and my seat belt unbuckles. No! I take in a deep breath to scream, in the hopes that whatever army brat grabbed me will let go.

“Let-” A hand clamps over my mouth, and my panic increases tenfold. I will go down fighting you bastard! I’m pulled out of the car, and held in the air. I try to kick and punch my attacker, and I get a few in before my limbs are restrained by something hard. Was I handcuffed? As a last resort, I bite the hand over my mouth as hard as I can. A sweet, and salty liquid fills my mouth. I would’ve expected blood? 

“Gaz! Stop!” Zim? Where is he? Is he alright? Suddenly I’m sitting, and only then do I realize my eyes have been shut tight the whole time. I’m in the back of a car, and Zim is standing outside. The weird metal legs retreat into his pak.

“Zim?” My voice is so quiet. “What... But, the army?”  _ In, out. _ Dark blood drips from his hand, and it’s all I can see. I can hear my own blood pumping in my ears, it’s pounding so loud I can barely think.  _ I can’t breathe! _

A car door slams, and the car I’m in rumbles to life. It’s moving, and I am moving, and my blood is so loud, his blood is so dark… I can still see it in my mind’s eye. As dark as the nighttime field where I found him. Dripping onto the asphalt. Did I do that? Somebody is talking, and something is moving. Someone’s hands are on my shoulders, and they gently pull me back.

My head is in someone’s lap, and as I stare at the back of the seat in front of me, their fingers run through my hair. God, I’m so tired.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Jesus Christ what a mess. The general will  _ not  _ be happy when he hears how badly we screwed this up. All we have to show for the millions of dollars of funding hastily shoveled into this project is a college students apartment and this… destroyed Nissan Sentra. Both the windshields are completely smashed, the right hand rear view mirror is gone, and the trunk is riddled with bullet holes. Of course, the tires are completely intact. Idiots.

"Doesn't anybody here know how to aim?" I direct my question at a nearby group of soldiers, who are standing around aimlessly waiting for orders. They all avert my gaze and focus on the floor or the cigarettes in their hands. When I look back at the damaged car somebody pipes up.

“We can aim just fine, sir! I was the one to shoot off the mirror, I only missed because the green bastard-” I whirled around to face the soldier in anger.

“Yeah, you’re not  _ supposed _ to kill it! Didn’t anyone make that clear to you?” He crossed his arms and frowned, leaning against the army truck. Of course, his buddies seem to be focusing on minding their own business.

“Well, yeah, but he shot at us! I’m not gonna let some dumb alien kill me just because the Doc wants something to play with.” I stare, slack jawed, at this complete and utter  _ moron. _ I can’t believe his arrogance. I’m gonna get so much shit for what happened today and he has the gall to speak to me like that?

“You’re fired.”

The cigarette drops out of his mouth when he sputters in shock. “What?”

“You heard me. Get the hell out of here.”

“But I… Do you know how hard I worked-”

“Then you screwed yourself over. Get out of my sight.” I make a mental note to draw up dishonorable discharge papers when I get back to my temporary office. I just can’t have some trigger happy hero wannabe killing what we’re after, because doctor Norton  _ does _ want it alive. Although I know Norton wouldn’t mind a dead alien, some part of me doesn’t want to kill it either. I don’t want to be responsible for the murder of the first alien on Earth.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

“How is she?” I maneuver the rear view window to get a better look at the alien - um, Zim, in the backseat. Gaz sure did a number on his hand, but he acted like he didn’t even notice. It’s almost eerie how calmly he wrapped his hand in a ripped off piece of fabric from his shirt. He radiates secrets and distrust, he makes me uneasy.

“She is sleep.” He replies, his voice quiet. I can’t quite see it, but I’m pretty sure he’s running his fingers through my sister’s hair. I don’t like that. But, I’m the one driving because the all-mighty, advanced alien can’t drive a car, and I can’t be the one to comfort my sister. And the annoying robot is too short.

“Your hair is pointy.” Speaking of…

“Uh, most people call it spikey. I can’t get it to lie flat so I just-why am I telling you this? Hang on, what’s your name again?” I sneak a glance at him, as his eyes turn red and he does a small salute.

“ Gethid Ibugaolkeí Repwochúr!” His voice is harsher then, but when he stops speaking he slumps back in his seat and his eyes turn blue again.

“His name is Gir.” Zim supplies from the backseat.

“Ah, uh, thanks.” He nods, and looks back down at my sister, almost lovingly. I can feel a small pit of annoyance growing deep in my soul, but for the sake of us all, I push it down. After all, he has a gun, and has proven how to use it. I need to tread lightly here.

“So, I was thinking that, well, you need to hide from the government, right?” Am I really going to help this guy? This… enemy of earth?

“Yes.”

“Well you’re going to need a disguise, because you stick out like a green thumb at the moment. Maybe a wig, some contacts, makeup… and an oversized hoodie will do.” Maybe. Don’t think contacts could accurately cover those bright red eyes.

“If I-, Ga z said, that I… neírsikh. Gir, ngaí git’a kaí mipta a z̀eír pamimuz kaí mipta ít z̀eír khodajeítwoírní.”

“ _ What? _ ”

“He says that he needs uh… some big word parts to make a hologram!” Gir kicks his legs happily in the passenger seat next to me like a child. It’s kind of cute, actually.

“Oh. What does he need?”

“Pamimuz. Gir, translate.”

“Oops, sorry! A particle render-thingy.” Oh. I bet my dad has one of those. It sounds familiar. Ugh, I shouldn’t help him! Who knows why he’s on Earth! There’s a multitude of horrible reasons and yet… he hasn’t  _ outwardly _ expressed any vicious intent. Except for the myriad of weapons he seems to have. For some reason, Gaz seems to trust him. Christ, I’m gonna regret this, I’m sure. I take a deep breath and glance at the rear-view mirror.

“I can get you one of those.” His antennae shoot up with what seems to be interest.

“Oh?” 

Gir jumps into my lap, almost causing me to lose control of the (stolen) car. Shit! The car swerves to the left, and I narrowly avoid a passing minivan as I swerve back to my correct lane. The car settles, some drivers give me the finger, and I look back at my passengers. Gaz is still asleep, but Zim’s weird metal back legs start to retract. He must have used them to stabilize himself and Gaz when the car swerved. Interesting.

“What did you do that for!?” I bark at Gir.

“Will you get me somethin’ too? I want waffles.”

“Please sit back in your seat.” I grumble. Cute, sure. Definitely annoying. And Dangerous. He does the closest thing to a shrug and crawls back to his seat, and begins to count birds on telephone wires. Loudly.

“Zim, what the  _ hell _ is wrong with your robot.” Zim definitely seems to come from some advanced alien race, whereas Gir is from a poorly made… walmart toy line.

“He broke. I need to fix more.”

“Seven, eight, forty!” Broken indeed.

“You say you can get me pamimuz?” Zim continues, ignoring Gir.

“Oh yeah, my dad definitely has stuff like that.” He tilts his head to the left.

“Your… Dad?” 

“Uhh it’s a word for father?” His antennae twitches and he nods.

“I understand.” He looks out the window and I focus on the road, trying to ignore the fact that he’s still running his fingers through Gaz’s hair.

“Seventy-two, nine, eleven, six hundred and eighty nine…”

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZz

In a darkened room, a man watches TV.

“Woohoo! Now  _ that’s  _ what I’m talking about!” He shouts, cheering on the figures on the screen. He sighs and settles deeper into the plushness of his seat. A door opens, and light spills in from the hallway, but he ignores it. Someone scuttles up behind his chair.

“Uh, sir?” The timid voice said.

“Not now! I’m busy.” The man snaps, rolling his eyes and waving a hand, to dismiss the figure.

“Sir it’s important.” The new figure repeated with urgency.

“Nah, I don’t think it is.”

“Sir… It’s about the,” He whispered. “ _ Scan _ you ordered?” All at once, the man stands up, the blanket on his lap crumpling to the ground. He whirls around to face the figure, smiles broadly and leans in.

“And?”

“It um. It was positive, sir.” A person on the television laughs, the figure attempts to swallow a lump in his throat, and the man’s face twists in anger.

“ _ What? _ How is that possible? We took every preventative measure!” He screams, pacing the room in anger. Turning back, he points an accusatory finger at the trembling figure. “Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes sir. We ran it twelve times.” The man roars in anger and hurls a remote at the television, shattering the screen and plunging the room in complete darkness.

“What am I gonna do?” He whispered to himself. The figure stayed silent. “I know!” He snaps his fingers. “Get um… What’s her name… She’s uh, the ‘best of the best’ or whatever. Get her to make that test a  _ negative _ , do you hear me?” 

“Wh-who? Sir?” The man taps a finger against his chin in thought.

“It’s… Ah! Her name is Tak, give her a call, why don’t you.”


	13. Idiot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Invader Zim. I just don’t. TW: talking about panic attacks.

Some kind of 1980’s electronic music is playing, I think. It sounds like Dib is softly singing along as the car twists and turns down whatever road he’s driving on. God, I feel exhausted. I can’t remember… the army… someone holding me.

Someone’s holding me. My eyes snap open as the memory of my panic attack floods back to me. I hurt Zim! I can remember that… oh god. I suck in a deep breath, ready to fling myself up and apologize. That’s new, feeling the need to say sorry.

A hand strokes my hair as my muscles tense, and Zim speaks.

“It is alright, Gaz.” He murmurs, making the hair on my neck stand on end. Before I can say anything, Dib buts in.

“She’s awake? Gaz, how are you feeling?” I can’t see it from my position - _ my head is on Zim’s lap oh my god- _ but I’m sure that he’s tilted the rearview mirror for the optimal view to check on me. He’s a bit overprotective like that.

“I’m okay, Dib, I’m fine-” Gir rockets out of his seat as I attempt to sit up, barreling into my chest.

“Pretty lady is alive!” His voice pierces my eardrums. Zim growls with disdain, and one of his metal legs emerges and moves gir to the other side of the car, all the while Gir comically tries to run back towards me. His leg holds Gir at bay, and I feel Zim’s hands move under my shoulders to help me sit up.

“Thanks.” The second I’m sitting I can feel the headache I didn’t realize was there. Gir’s screeching and wailing is only making things worse, so I resolve myself to my fate. “It’s okay Zim, you can let him go.” 

Dib whines. “Could you  _ not _ let him go?” Zim ignores him, retracting his pak leg. Gir launches himself into my lap, nudging me back a few inches towards Zim again.

“Pretty lady you were  _ dead _ ! I’m glad you’re not dead no more!” The blue light closes in what looks like sadness, his metallic voice squeezing and whining more like a throat tightening. “I would be so sad if you were dead!”

“Are you sure you’re okay Gaz?” Dib questions. “You were under a lot of stress there and I want to make sure that you’re recovering alright.” Gir looks to be on the verge of fake tears so I tend to him instead of my whiny brother, who knows full well that I’m  _ fine. _

“Gir, I wasn’t dead. Just sleeping. You know sleeping? Zim sleeps, I sleep, even you sleep sometimes. You know that.” The blue lights in his eyes flicker like blinking, and move upwards in a happy expression.

“Okay!” He chirps, turning and scrambling back to the front seat to annoy Dib. “She is not dead! She was jus’ sleeping! Did you know that I sleep? That’s what she says… What’s sleep? Is it fun? I wanna eat…” Gir fades into the background of my mind as Zim’s hand gently touches my shoulder. Turning, his red eyes stare into mine. He looks concerned, his brow furrowed.

“Gaz, are you okay? What…. Was that?” Oh God… explaining panic attacks was not on my to-do list.

“I-Zim, do you remember that night when you had a bad dream? A, um, meejetchee?” He blinks, chuckles, and then corrects me.

“What night?” Dib asks. Zim glances towards him then returns his gaze to mine. He looks tired, he face sagging as he speaks.

“Mijetaícheí. Yes, I remember.”`

“Hey, what night?” Dib raises his voice to be hear over Gir’s question after question, which are now about where popcorn comes from.

“Okay, well, do you remember when you were… sad? And you couldn’t breathe?” I want to tread lightly here, knowing that Dib can hear every word I say.

His eyes harden and he looks away from me. “Yes.”

“Well, on Earth we would call that a panic attack. It’s kind of like when, when your emotions are too much to handle, and too much is happening. Your body will have a reaction to that.”

“It is veítwa’ux.” He growls.

“What?” Zim stares out the window, and mutters to himself. 

“Kaí kho ú veítwa.”

“Gir, what’s he saying?” Dib sighs in relief when Gir stops chattering at him to turn to me. 

“Ooooooo he saying that he’s not a weak!” A short burst of giggles, and then he quickly quiets and stares at me. “I don’t know what that means.”

“You’re not weak Zim.” I say, turning back to him. Gently. I reach out a hand to his shoulder for comfort. “A panic attack is not a sign of weakness.”

“Yeah,” Dib snorts. “The guy single handedly stopped an army. Not exactly weak.”

“On Irk, it is.” Zim says, ignoring Dib. I pull away from him in anger.

“Well, you’re not on Irk, are you? And even if you were, are you calling me weak?” His antennae flatten against his head in shame.

“No, I do not think you are weak.” He whispers.

“Hey, uh,” Dib interrupts. “Is Irk what your planet is called?” Zim narrows his eyes and scowls.

“Yes.” Dib smiles, seemingly glad he finally got a response from Zim.

“Cool, I guess that makes sense if the language is called Irkless or Irktensee or something… Wish I wrote that down. Where is the planet?”

“Far away.” He mutters.

“Um, that’s not exactly an answer but whatever. When did you get here? Actually, better question, why are you here? Oh, what happened to you? I mean, no offense, but that scar on your neck looks kinda bad.” Oh god, dib is rambling now. He always says the dumbest stuff when he’s not focused on what he’s saying. “Where did you get the gun?”

“That is not for you to know.” Zim snaps.

“Hey, no need to be snippy, I mean, after all we did for you, you could at least answer a few questions.”

“Úshúj kaí?”  _ Excuse me?  _ Dib, like an idiot, continues.

“In fact, because of you, we almost died! My  _ sister _ almost died!” Zim full on growls, his antennae flat against his skull.

“I do not want that, and it is not my fault your  _ baby _ human army want me to die.”

“Yeah, sure I can agree with that, but who knows maybe those guys are right to be suspicious of you.”

“Dib.” I use my warning tone, but that only makes him tighten his grip on the steering wheel.

“Come on Gaz! Think, he has a gun! And bombs! That is not exactly ‘I’m friendly please take me to you leader.’ He’s dangerous, Gaz.” In my peripheral I can see Zim’s anger deflate into sadness. His worst fear is being dangerous.

“It’s not his fault, Dib. I think he’s a soldier or something.”

“What, that makes it better? That just means he’s  _ trained _ at being dangerous!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“God, Gaz! You always say that! Open your eyes and look, really look! Because of him, we could’ve died today. I can’t - I can’t lose you Gaz.” I can feel my chest tightening again.

“I will not hurt her.” Zim grinds out, his teeth clenched together.

“Even if I believed that, which I don’t know if I do, your presence alone will hurt her. So I’m gonna ask you to leave.” Dib says, pulling the car off to the side of the back road we were driving along.

“What? Dib you can’t do that.”

“Gaz, he’s gonna get us killed.”

“You don’t know that.” I need to breathe. Dib takes off his seatbelt, gets out of the car, and opens Zim’s door.

“Get out of the car.” Zim glances at him with disdain.

“No.”

“Zim, get the hell out of the car. We helped you this far, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure my sister isn’t murdered by the army.” His next words are whispered so quietly I can barely hear them, as if it’s just a reassurance to himself.

“I will not leave her.”

“Come on.” Dib says, leans in, and makes a huge mistake. He grabs Zim’s arm and pulls, in an attempt to pull him out of the car. Zim’s antennae snap upward, and he whips his head to look at Dib. In the same instant he hoists himself out of the car, his spider legs springing out from his pak, lifting him off the ground. Another leg pushes Dib to the ground, forcing him to let go of Zim’s arm.

“Ah!” Dib shouts in surprise when he hits the ground. He rolls on his side and scrambles to his feet as Zim’s legs slowly return him to the ground. I know I should do something, but it feels like my brain is functioning in slow motion, and I can just observe.

“Do not touch me, you  _ dirt _ human.” Zim hisses.

“I’ll do what I like as the - as the defender of Earth!” Dib yells, pointing a finger at Zim. Zim’s antenna lay flat against his head like an angry cat, and he moves a foot back in a defensive stance.  _ Holy shit they’re gonna fight. _ I realize with a start that Dib will  _ not  _ win that fight. Suddenly feeling control over my body, I scramble to get out of the car.

“You can not even be defender of you.” Zim chuckles.

“Wanna bet?”

“Stop it!” I yell, running to stand in between them. “Cut it out, idiots! You!” I turn to Zim. “Get back in the car! Anyone driving by will  _ see  _ you! What’s the matter with you, picking a fight with him? That moron is my brother!”

“Yeah! Tell him Gaz! Wait-I’m not a moron!” Zim’s antenna twitches with his annoyance at Dib’s voice, but he has the good sense to at least look admonished. He opens his mouth to say something, but I turn my attention to Dib.

“And you! Are you trying to get yourself killed? Did you somehow forget that part about ‘trained soldier?’ The only soldier you could beat in a fight is a two inch plastic one! Now both of you, get back in the car!” God I feel like I suddenly have kids.

“Khú fiptaz aokhao.” Zim grumbles as he steps back into the car.

“I heard that!” I yell at Zim as he shuts the door.

“Gaz…”

“Don’t start Dib! You’re mad at him for putting us in danger? This little stunt could’ve gotten us all killed!” I can feel my throat tightening as the weight of the situation gets to me. “You could’ve gotten him killed. From now on, we need to work together. I mean, what did you think was going to happen if he left? That we could go back to our lives?” I take a deep breath to maintain my composure. “The army knows who we are. Our lives are gone, Dib. So get back in the car so we can figure out what to do next.”

Dib huffs, adjusts his glasses, and walks back to the car. I take a moment, to stand outside and breathe the fresh air, calm myself down. Trying not to think that  _ everything _ I once had is gone forever. My whole life, everything I worked for, is gone. What I have now is a completely different, new and uncertain life. The world is still spinning, the birds are still singing, and I am still here. And I’m not alone, I have Dib, and Zim…

“Gaz!” Dib yells. “Come on! We should go, you know, like you said?” I walk back to the car, and take my seat in the back with Zim.

“Don’t you want to sit in the front?” Dib frowns.

“Nah, I’m good back here. Besides, you have Gir to keep you company, whiner.” Gir is currently trying to shove a CD in his non-existent mouth, in an attempt to eat it, I think it.

“I’m sorry.” Zim says, quietly.

“It’s okay Zim… it was his fault anyway.”

“It was not!”

“Shut up Dib.” He mumbles something under his breath as he goes to start the car. “Actually, Dib, where are we? Where are you driving us?”

“Oh, well  _ he _ says he needs a hologram, so I figured dad would have one, so we’re going to dad’s lab.”

“And what, are you driving straight to LA, right now?”

“Yep! We should be there in a few days if we-”

“Idiot.”

“Huh? How does that make me an idiot? I’m trying to get something to disguise the alien! So then he can go take over the world, I guess.”

“You’re an idiot because the army knows who we are! They’ll guess that we’re going to our dad’s because he’s our dad! Where are we right now?” In the rear view mirror I can see him smile sheepishly.

“…Near the Ohio border… headed to Aunt Lori’s to stay the night…” Zim rolls his eyes, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t even understand half of those words.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure Aunt Lori is gonna be chill with a six foot tall stick insect and his malfunctioning robot. I’m also sure that the army is probably already waiting at Lori’s!” Zim leans forward, taps Gir on the top of his head, and speaks quickly in Irken.

“Gir, ngaí’e bursa chin daov ret’e z̀eíngi, eg’oích daov  _ oím _ ao z̀eír z̀eíngi. Eg’oích daov kath ka tú chuch letsaoaí, to ulchini z̀eín tú’e sheth.” Gir’s eyes flash red, and he turns to Dib.

“Lesi says that we need to act like an army! We need to… to… disappear and avoid them! Knock them off our trail! He also called you an idiot.”

“Hey!”

“Dib, Zim’s right, although, Zim, do try to play nice. We need to go somewhere the army doesn’t expect us to. Like… we’re near Ohio, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t we go south? Spend a few weeks camping somewhere, I don’t know. Something to make them  _ think _ we’re not going to dad’s. Obviously we have to eventually, but it’s all about the trick of the thing.”

“Of course! God I can’t believe I was going to go straight to Aunt Lori’s.” Dib says, smacking his hand to his face.

“I can.” Zim mumbles.

“This isn’t about you,  _ alien. _ ” I tap my fingers against the seat in frustration at their childishness.

“Quit bickering, and let’s go. Oh, Dib, can I see your phone?” His eyes open in surprise, but he grabs his phone off the dashboard and hands it to me.

“Here.” He says as he starts the car.

“I’ll put in some directions for alabama or something, just start driving.” I wait a few seconds until he gets to a decent speed, and then discreetly drop both our phones out the window. Moving my hands behind the seat, I pretend to fiddle with a phone so Dib doesn’t get suspicious. Although, it’s only a matter of time until-

“Hey Gaz? Can I have my phone back?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“She make the phone go.” Zim smirks.

“What?  _ What? _ Gaz what does that mean?”

“It means I threw our phones out the window so the army couldn’t trace us. Now turn left and go south, will you?”

“But I already made my phone invisible! What the  _ hell _ , Gaz!”

“That’s what you think, but I could always track you easily. Now shut up Dib and drive the damn car.”


	14. Pixie Sticks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own invader Zim. TW: talking about panic attacks

We lost them. Two college kids somehow got away with the number one wanted  _ creature _ in all of America, and all we have to prove that they were once here, is two cell phones recovered near Ohio, and the painting of the Occupant left at the apartment.

I told the men that I wanted to be the one to hand carry it to the general, for fear of it being damaged, and while that was partly true, the real reason is I wanted to look at it. It’s not like I need to know what the Occupant looks like, we caught him on a dozen different cameras, it’s just that the painting seems to portray him in a different light. I know that from any of these soldiers perspectives, they saw a monster today. A freak of nature, firing weapons on innocent human beings, and I understand that perspective. I do. It’s just… this painting makes me want to think about that idea more, reflect on it, merely because that girl took the time to paint it. The Occupant lived in that house for more than a week and he didn’t kill her, and was somehow convinced to sit still for a  _ portrait _ . It doesn’t add up.

“Sir? You have a phone call.” George, one of the few responsible privates, in my opinion, startles me out of my thoughts to hand me the phone.

“Thank you, George. Hello?” He nods.

“Hello, Major! I just finished looking over the security footage… and my, my, am I interested!” The smooth and unassuming voice of Doctor Norton slithered through the phone. Somehow he makes everything he says sound like a threat, even though his tone always stays friendly.

“I’m sure you are, Doctor.” He chuckles, and I mentally prepare myself for what’s to come next.

“Well, tell me what you saw? I must say, the green skin is interesting. Do you think the creature produces chlorophyll? I’m excited to get my hands on a skin sample and find out.”

“Doctor, I saw pretty much the same thing you saw in the footage. The Occupant ran, and attacked our forces.”

“Yes, yes, I know about that, tell me about the creature! Mannerisms or things he said. Any detail that those shoddy cameras might have missed.”

“Uh…” I look down at the painting in my hand. “He had scars. On his face. I-I’m sorry Doc, I don’t think I can give you anything else.” Silence on the other end.

“Well, that means I’ll be able to get a scar tissue sample instead of having to make some. Although too many scars could prove difficult in surgery. I suppose that doesn’t matter though, does it?” I can hear him smile through the phone. It sends a shudder down my spine.

“I guess not, Doctor.”

“Well, just let me know when you catch that thing, that shall be a good day indeed!” I don’t bother saying goodbye. I don’t want to have to communicate with him any more than I already have to. I hang up the phone, and find myself gazing at the picture again. The student, Gaz, painted this. Almost with  _ care _ for the occupant. As if-

Ugh, why am I even thinking like this? An alien with obvious weapons and training has landed on Earth, it’s a clear national threat. We need to catch him, and neutralize him. Immediately.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Gaz’s filthy brother is the most irritating individual I’ve ever had the displeasure of interacting with. Non-stop questions and comments and eye-rolls. It’s like a smeet is driving us. Actually, this  _ Dib _ is like the brash new recruits at the academy. Never knows when to shut up, and thinks they know everything when they’ve barely had any training. In short, an arrogant, annoying, idiot.

The only good thing he’s done so far is driven us safely. It’s been a few hours now, and Gaz has told me we passed into an area known as ‘Wehst Verghenia.’ Something like that, anyway. The sun is setting now, and I know we need to set up camp soon, and we have no supplies to do so. We need food, shelter, and a plan. This "army" seems to be dangerous, and I can't let-I  _ won't  _ let anything happen to… Gaz. Those idiots were firing their primitive guns with little discipline, any one of us could have died today. We need to be more careful.

"Zim?" Her voice is soft whenever she speaks to me, and a part of me hurts because I know she's just trying to avoid another one of my embarrassing reactions.

"Yes?" This language feels so odd and clunky on my tongue. It's the first time I've ever had to learn a language without the aid of pak download, and it's difficult, at best.

“I’m going to go get us some food, and some makeup for you. Try not to fight Dib, okay?” I can only ever understand half of what Gaz says, so I make a mental note to ask Gir about what makeup is. Maybe a weapon of sorts? Dib mentioned it earlier as well.

“Can I have some pixie sticks?” I ask. The sweets on this planet are delicious, I must admit, but I’m beginning to notice the sugar here is not as strong as on Irk. She smiles slightly at my request and nods her head.

“Sure Zim, I’ll get you some pixie sticks.” Sounds like a yes to me. Gir turns around towards the back of the car and waves frantically to get our attention. He’s never hard to miss.

“Can I come with you?” His speakers weren’t damaged in the crash, but his normal voice is so much higher and disjointed now. I’m quite disappointed in myself at my ill attempt to fix him, but here’s hoping that I can get what I need at Gaz’s father’s home.

“ _ No Gir. _ ” It is nice to be able to speak in Irketsi, though. To be understood. “ _ Gaz is going to get us food, and weapons I think, and you don’t exactly blend in. _ ”

“But Gazzy said I could go with her!” He whines in English.

“What? No I didn’t!” She sighs, her energy towards dealing with Gir clearly spent. “Besides, you don’t even have a disguise Gir, you stick out like a sore-”

“Yes I do!” He shrieks, and the image of a small earth child flickers into the space where a visible Gir once was. The fur on his head is short, and blonde. Red cheeks and bright green eyes beam out of a chubby, childish face.

“ _ What? You could still do that? Why didn’t you tell me? _ ” He used to be such a reliable machine, almost a friend, and now… I don’t know.

“I don’t know.” Gir, in the form of a child shrugs and smiles, turning back to Gaz. “So can I come with you?” She looks shocked, but shakes herself out of it and opens the car door.

“Sure, just stay quiet okay?”

“Okay!” They leave, and I am left alone, with Dib.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

I don’t trust him. I just don’t. I mean, he’s been sitting there quietly for almost ten minutes now, tapping his fingers against the seat and staring at me. It’s unnerving. What’s even more unnerving is what’s going on with him and Gaz. That thing he said earlier? About ‘not leaving her’? I didn’t like that. I take being a big brother seriously, and even with a normal guy I’d be bothered, but I am  _ not _ happy that this… bug seems to have some sort of soft spot for my sister. That she reciprocates! She stood up for him, even when he’s clearly dangerous, and a threat to our very well being. I can’t let him hurt my sister, or the planet.

“What do you want, exactly?” I ask, breaking the silence. He tilts his head in confusion, and squints his eyes.

“I do not understand.” His accent is thick, and forces him to say all his words with care.

“Why are you  _ here. _ On earth.” His eyes narrow further and his antenna twitches. Interesting.

“I do not choose earth. I am here… mistake.” Sure you are.

“Okay, let’s say I believe that. What made you ‘mistake’ arrive here?” Note to self: When he gets angry, his antenna lay flat against his head, like a cat.

“That is not for you to know.” He growls.

“Actually, I  _ do _ think I should know. Given that I-well, we, have risked our lives for you! So, I’ll ask you again. Why did you come here?”

“It is not for you to know. That is all.” He stares at me with defiance, a slight smirk on his face.

“Listen, Zim, you’re gonna have to do better than that because-”

“No,  _ you _ listen, you dirt baby.”

“Hey!”

“I do not want to harm earth. Understand that, okay? I do not want to harm you,  _ for now, _ and I do  _ not _ want to harm Gaz.”

“How am I supposed to believe that?” He smirks, and relaxes into his seat.

“You do not have a choose. That baby army know you and Gaz are here. They want you, they want me. Understand?”

“Yes… and you  _ swear _ you won’t hurt us? I don’t know if I can trust that.” The alien sighs, and moves his finger in a circle over his chest.

“Kaí paoktaongib fím aokh gengeí. No harm will come to you, or Gaz. We need to… be together.” 

“Fine. As much as I hate to say this, you’re… right. I can’t get rid of you now,  _ unfortunately _ , and we’re just going to have to figure this thing out along the way.”

“Yes.” And with that, he goes back to silently staring out the window, tapping his fingers against the seat. Fingers tipped with sharp claws, I might add. I really want to get my hands on his gun, because the thought of him having it makes me uneasy, but it seems he’s put it back in that… backpack type thing he has. I need to ask about that more later.

A knock at the window pulls me out of my thoughts, and I unlock the car to let Gaz and Gir back in. Zim smiles when he sees Gaz, a sickly sweet and absent minded smile.

“Did you get everything?” I ask her.

“Yeah,” She huffs as she pulls the bags of groceries and other items into the footwell of the front seat. “I even managed to get a couple of tents and sleeping bags.” Sure enough, there are some cylindrical grey and black bags left in the shopping cart. “I’m gonna go throw those in the back, and then we can leave. Gir, get in the car please.” Gir, still disguised as a child, climbs into the front seat and squeals with happiness at being back in the car. I think.

The trunk of the car opens and closes, and Gaz sits with  _ Zim _ in the backseat. She digs through a small shopping bag for a few seconds before handing Zim a few pixie sticks. He takes them eagerly and thanks her.

“So, now that we have tents and sleeping bags, we should find somewhere to camp for the night.” Gaz says. “It’s been one hell of a day, and I for one would like to get some sleep.”

“Yes.” Zim interjects. “Sleep is good for us, it will make us good tomorrow.” I’m beginning to not like it when he’s right.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Setting up camp was relatively easy. West Virginia is full of thick forests and campgrounds, with many  _ secluded  _ options to make hiding an alien easier. We settled on a free, and rarely patrolled campground in a forest far away from the cabins. There was just enough room in the clearing for a fire pit, the car, and a few tents. Perfect for our purposes.

I got two of these nice sized two person tents, because the walmart we came across was all out of those massive family tents. Putting up the tents was… an interesting experience. Zim could not understand how to put up a tent for the longest time. He was immensely frustrated and annoyed at the quality of the tents, cursing up a storm in Irken. He said that our tents were “like baby” in comparison to Irken tents. I think he means inferior? He says baby as a comparison for a lot of things. After failing to build the second tent a grand total of six times and accepting  _ zero  _ offers of help, he finally figured it out (with the help of Gir translating the instruction manual) and constructed it. Successfully. He’s quite proud. Now all we have to do is set up a fire, eat dinner, and get along, somehow.

"So… who knows how to make a fire?" Dib stares at me incredulously.

“Come on Gaz… You know as well as I do that I don’t know how to miraculously make a fire.” He walks over to the fire pit. “Besides, why do we need one? Didn’t you buy some donuts or something?”

“Those are for breakfast. If we get a fire going, we can heat up the soup I bought.” Zim, who was admiring his tent handiwork, turns and takes a step towards me.

“What is ‘fire’?” He tilts his head, eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Oh uh, Gir, translate fire for Zim.” Gir stops attempting to eat the pot I bought and beamed at me.

“Lesi, fire is eke!” He screeches.

“Ah!” Zim smiles and waves his hand in the air. “I can fire. It is baby.”

“That’s great Zim! Go for it.” I take a step back to observe. There’s lots of fallen twigs and sticks around the campsite and Zim makes use of his pak legs to help gather them quickly, all the while Gir follows him around like a lost child. He gathered his wood, and deposited the kindling in the fire pit, ready to go. I expected him to rub two sticks together or something like that, but instead, Zim took a few steps back, reached into his pak, pulled out his gun, and shot the laser blaster into the fire. A small flame instantly lit.

“Jesus  _ Christ! _ ” Dib yelped. “You can’t just go around shooting that thing! You might hit one of us!” Zim scoffed as he returned the gun to his pak.

“I will  _ not _ . Kaí vaí yov úlí.” The twigs in the fire steadily began to ignite the neighboring twigs, a campfire was forming.

“Huh. That was kind of cool, Zim.”

“It was not!” Dib hissed. “He can’t go around shooting a gun with no-”

“Oh, can it Dib.” I reach into the bag of groceries to grab the soup. “You didn’t know how to make a fire anyway, and now we have one. Gir, can I have that pot?” The little robot shrieked with glee, and handed me the pot.

“For you!”

“Thanks…” I still don’t know what to make of him. Messed up little thing that’s for sure. I have to use a handheld can opener to open the soup, but once that's done I'm able to pour it into the pot to begin making dinner. Well, heating up dinner.

The fire pit has two log benches on either side, Dib takes a seat across from me, and Zim settles to my right on the log. Dib is glaring at Zim like there’s no tomorrow, but I’m not going to pay him attention.

“So.  _ Zim. _ ” Dib says with contempt. “How did you get here? How did you meet Gaz? In my peripheral vision I can see Zim stiffen, so I take a deep breath and prepare.

“I get here from spaceship. Gaz… help me.” As the soup begins to bubble, I glance up to catch Dib’s eyes.

“He crashed, Dib. I pulled him out of his ship, took care of him. He didn’t mean to come here.” Dib opens his mouth to interrupt. “And before you ask, no, he is  _ not _ here with ulterior motives. I’m sure of it.”

“How? How can you be sure of that? I mean, what were you thinking Gaz? He could be carrying a hundred different alien diseases and you wouldn’t know!”

“What?” Zim asks.

“Dib. Stop. Just… Stop. We have already had this conversation, and knowing you, you’re going to make us keep having it. Frankly, none of that matters now. What’s done is done, and Zim is here. Now, the soup is ready, do you want some?” He glares at me, then stands up.

“Actually, I’m going to go to bed. If you want to enable a possible future alien overlord, be my goddamn guest, Gaz. Goodnight.” He shoots Zim one more sharp glare, then turns on his heel to walk towards his tent. Gir screeches from the woods behind me.

“Wait! I wanna be with Dibble!” Dib turns on his heel, looking behind him at the deranged little robot vying for his attention. 

“No. Absolutely not. I won’t get a wink of sleep. You never shut up, and alien germs-”

“Gir, neírmí veíz ika.” Zim interrupts. Suddenly, Gir stops speaking, the lights on his stomach and mouth dimming, and his eye lights turning off. He stands, perfectly still in a neutral position.

“I… What just happened?”

“Oh, Zim put him in sleep mode.”

“What? Why isn’t he in sleep mode all the time?” Zim rolls his eyes.

“Too many. He will not stay sleep. Veíz ika is six hour.”

“But you just put him in sleep mode.” Dib says, running his hand through his hair.

“Yes? I do not understand.” Zim’s left antennae begins to twitch. I know I have to step in before this escalates.

“Dib, Zim can sometimes make Gir go to sleep if he hasn’t slept for a while, I think, but he won’t  _ stay  _ asleep forever. It’s complicated, but that’s the gist of what I understand.”

“Fine. Whatever. I’m going to bed. Have fun fraternizing with aliens.”

“Actually Dib, can you take Gir with you? I don’t want him standing out in the campsite where anyone can see him.”

“Ugh,” Dib groans, stomping over to where Gir is like a petulant child. “Fine, now leave me alone.” Gir remains stiff in a standing position as Dib tucks him under his arm and goes to his tent. Zim and I watch in silence as Dib awkwardly unzips and enters the tent, grumbling under his breath the entire time.

“Hey,” I whisper leaning over to Zim. “Can’t wait until Gir wakes him up at 3am, right?” Zim snorts and leans back.

“Thank you. That will be fun for me.” He grins and turns back to his soup.

“Believe me, I’m looking forward to it.” We eat our dinner in a mutual, pleasant quietness. The sounds of the crackling fire and crickets fill the air, and I realize just how hungry I am that this soup tastes like the most amazing thing I’ve ever had. Zim is nice to talk to, especially now that his grasp on the language is getting better. I’m beginning to notice his snarky sense of humor, his quick witted comebacks to Dib being the thing that comes to mind.

This whole situation is the weirdest, most insane thing that’s ever happened in my life but at the same time… I feel that I’m actually making a friend. A friend that I care for, who cares about me. That’s definitely a first. In my peripheral I can see him glance at me here and there, like he’s trying to gauge my reaction of something. He wants to make sure I’m alright, I think, especially after my panic attack today.

Oh. My panic attack.

“Zim, can I ask you something?” He looks at me, perplexed.

“Yes?” I stir my spoon absentmindedly, trying to choose my words carefully.

“Earlier today you said… you said that you were weak, for having had a panic attack. Why do you think that?” He grimaces, and looks away from me.

“It is true. I am weak.”

“No, Zim, of course you’re not. Why-”

“On Irk, it is weak. We can not…” He sighs. “Weak is bad, dangerous. You can not be weak here,” He taps his head. “I am weak here.” He whispers.

“Zim, listen to me. Irk is wrong.” I reach out to grasp his shoulder, but he jerks away from me.

“No, I can not… I was not… I have nightmare. I have panic. I am  _ weak. _ ” He chokes on his words and looks at the ground. “You can not understand.” I put my bowl of soup on the ground and turn to face him fully.

“I know that what I say may not help, because I know that you are… struggling here, but I promise you, that having issues in life is not a sign of weakness. I know I don’t know you well yet, but you are stronger than you may think.” I lean in, and for the first time in a long time, I give someone a hug. He’s stiff as a board at first, but I hold still, wrapping my arms around him tightly, hoping he understands what’s happening. Maybe Irk doesn’t have hugs and he thinks I’m attacking him? I hope that’s not the case.

But, slowly, I feel his hands wrap around mine, and he leans his head into my shoulder, and cries. Quietly, and heart wrenchingly, an alien cries into my shoulder as I hug him. It takes everything in my power to keep from crying myself, and I gently begin to rub his back, in what I assume is a soothing manner.

“It’s okay… I whisper. “It’s going to be okay…” It feels like time has slowed to this moment, as he squeezes his arms tighter around me and the sound of his crying begins to slow as he calms down. In time, he stops altogether and we just sit there, hugging each other. An idea strikes me and I gently pull away to face him, sliding my hands down his arms to hold his hands.

“Hey, I have an idea, and you may not like it, but it might help.” His antenna twitches in confusion, but he nods anyway.

“You told me once,” I can feel myself blushing. “You told me that when I was with you that one night, that you didn’t have any nightmares. I’m going to go grab my sleeping bag from Dib’s tent, and I’ll meet you in yours okay?” His cheeks darken in color as if he’s blushing, but he nods.

“Okay. I’m gonna go… do that.” I stand up awkwardly, and make my way to Dib’s tent. Looking back before I enter the tent, I turn to see Zim walking slowly to his tent. It’s dark, but if I’m not mistaken there’s a slight smile on his face. I unzip Dib’s tent, and enter to see Dib, sitting on his sleeping bag, arms folded, and frowning.

“Oh shit, Dib-”

“I’ve been listening,  _ watching.  _ Don’t you dare do what I think you’re doing.” He grumbles.

“Dib, I swear to God if it was any other situation I would beat your ass right now, you know that right?” He winces.

“Don’t do this Gaz… You can’t trust him, please. That was a show for you, I know it.” I yank my sleeping bag from the floor.

“You don’t know anything Dib. You don’t know anything about Zim, and you don’t know anything about me. Goodnight.” I crawl out of the tent as angrily as I can as Dib calls after me.

“Gaz!  _ Gaz! _ ” I ignore him, stomping across the clearing to Zim’s tent. I unzip the tent, and when I see Zim, lying in his sleeping bag, one hand under his pillow, I feel my anger melt away.

“Is all good?” He asks.

“Yeah, Dib is just annoying.” I say, unrolling my sleeping bag and kicking my shoes off. Zim chuckles.

“He is.” I crawl into the bag, and lie on my side facing Zim.

“Well, goodnight.” I reach my hand out of the bag to hold his. Zim smiles slightly, and squeezes my hand.

“Goodnight, Gaz.”


	15. Waffles

“Ahhhhhhhhhh! Dib! Dib! Dib!” Dib jolts awake by Gir screeching his head off at the foot of his sleeping bag. The nylon fabric rustles together as the silver robot paws at it, slapping his hands at Dib’s feet as he screams.

“Wha-? Wha’s going on?” Dib rubs the sleep from his eyes, struggling to sit up. The beginnings of the day’s birdsong drifts into the tent. Gir flops on his stomach, the blue lights from his eyes being the only illumination in the darkness.

“What  _ time _ is it?” His voice comes out hoarse with sleep, the plastic smell in the small area making him crinkle his nose. “Gir, please quiet down, it’s too early for this.” Gir’s electronic voice catches as if he’s crying, and the little robot rolls over like a toddler in a fit.

“Where is my lesi? Where is he?” He screeches, kicking his cone shaped feet into the air.

“Christ, calm down, Gir. If I deliver you to Zim will you shut it?” Dib feels the ground next to his sleeping bag for his glasses, almost poking himself in the eye as he fumbles to put them on in the dark. He grumbles to himself, annoyed with his awakenness, as he unzips the sleeping bag and grabs his flashlight.

“Where is my lesi?” Gir whines.

“He’s just across the campsite, jeez.” He huffs, zipping open the tent door. Dib turns on the flashlight, and shines it across the way. Sure enough, on the other side of the fire pit is an identical dark grey tent, where Zim and his sister are residing.  _ Together.  _ Dib frowns and steps out of the tent. Over the horizon, a dim pink hue is beginning to form as the sun starts to rise, the night stars slowly dissipating into nothingness with it.

“Where is he? I don’t see him!”

“Shush! He’s just in that tent there! Go on.” Gir takes a hesitant step forward, then steps back towards Dib.

“I’m scared… Will you come with me?” If Gir had a bottom lip, it would be jutting out right now, as the blue lights of his eyes do their best imitation of the puppy-dog look. Dib sighs and rolls his eyes at his new position as Gir’s babysitter, but nonetheless he holds out a hand for Gir to grab onto.

“Yay!” Gir jumps with excitement, the leaves crackling as he hops along the forest floor.

“Yeah, yeah, just keep your voice down, okay?”

“Okay!” Gir yells, causing Dib to flinch. As the two walked hand in hand to the tent, Gir sang quietly to himself.

“Doom, doom, doom doom, doom!”

"What… what's that song?" Dib side-eyes Gir.

"It's the doom song!" He chirps happily, tilting his head side to side as he sings the song.

"Um, okay." Dib yawns and starts to unzip Zim's tent, shining the flashlight inside to wake up Zim, and he almost drops it in shock. For a split second, he sees the horrifying image of Gaz curled tightly into Zim's chest, his arms wrapped around her body, and his fingers intertwined with her hair. Before Dib has a chance to yell, Zim's eyes snap open.

In the span of a few seconds, Zim detached himself from Gaz and lunged through the partially open tent door to tackle Dib to the ground.

"Lesi!" Gir laughs, oblivious to the upcoming fight in front of him. Zim lands on top of Dib, instinctively pressing an elbow up against his throat.

"Ah! Get the fuck off me Zim!" Dib gasps.

"Khúv!” Zim hastily rolled off of Dib, making use of his pak legs to right himself.

“What the hell was that for?” Dib coughs, scrambling backwards away from Dib.

“I am sorry, you scare me.”

“Excuse me?  _ I  _ scared  _ you? _ That’s the biggest bullshit I’ve heard since-”

“What on earth is going on out here?” Gaz grumbles, stumbling out of the tent.

“He attacked me!” Dib points an accusatory finger at Zim as he gets on his feet.

“You scare me. I was sleep!” He growls back.

“That’s a stupid excuse!” Dib stomps a few steps away, angrily running his hands through his hair. He stops and spins on his heel, walking back towards Zim with his fists clenched.

“And another thing! Don’t you touch my sister!” Zim’s narrowed eyes widen in confusion.

“Eh?”

“You heard me! Don’t-”  
“Dib, what the hell are you talking about.” Gaz crosses her arms and sighs.

“I saw it! He had his… alien arms around you!”

“Wh-what?” Her cheeks turn red as she blushes and looks towards Zim for confirmation, but he’s still confused.

“Gaz, you are not  _ sleeping _ with him anymore! I don’t want him…  _ trying anything _ .” Gaz snaps her face upwards towards Dib, her face twisted with rage.

“Excuse you, I can take care of myself, and I was not  _ sleeping _ with him! Christ Dib, calm the fuck down!”

“What does he mean?” Zim says, lost.

“I’m saying that-” A dog barking cuts Dib off. Immediately, all three, bickering adults turn to the source of the noise, to see a camper standing with their dog. A middle aged woman with dark brown hair, standing thirty feet away with her face frozen in open mouthed horror. Her golden retriever barking loudly in the direction of Zim’s tent.

“Shit.”

“Shit.”

“Khúv.”

“Doggy!” Gir screeches, running at full speed over to the woman. This seems to snap her out of her spell, as she screams, spinning on a dime and running over the hill, presumably towards her camp.

“Fuck we gotta go.” Gaz whispers. “Now.” She rushes into her tent, flinging the sleeping bags outside. Turning around, she finds Zim and Dib just standing there, staring at her. 

“What are you waiting for? We need to pack this shit up!” She turns back to the tent, ripping the stakes out of the ground as fast as she can.

“Oh shit she’s right.” Dib mumbles, running back to his tent.

“Gir! A fií!” Zim orders. Gir stops running, his head spinning around with his eyes red. The robot salutes, then begins to run back towards the campsite, his eyes their normal blue color.

“Are you gonna help me or not?” Gaz huffs at Zim. He nods quickly, and the two of them set to work dismantling the tent. Not even bothering to neatly wrap up the tents, the three of them threw the loose fabric and poles into the back of the car. Dib hastily jumps into the driver’s seat of the subaru, touching the right wires together to get the car to start.

“Gir! Koích eg khú!” Zim commands, causing the little robot to come running towards the car. With Gaz already sitting in the backseat, Zim corrals Gir into the passenger side of the car. As Zim slams the backseat car door shut, Dib floors the gas pedal, and the car bursts to life, driving away from the campsite at full force.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

“Sir, some fellas at the West Virginia division got a report of a green fella at a campground near Westover. Should we investigate?” Major Ian Johnson looked up from his paperwork, and reached for his radio.

“Guys, get ready to pack up and roll out, we got a sighting in West Virginia.”

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

On a backroad in West Virginia, the inhabitants of a blue subaru outback sit in silence. The campsite, where they spent the night, long behind them. Inside the car, Zim and Gaz are both gazing out their respective windows, watching the fields roll by. In the front of the car, Dib squints against the light of the morning sun as he drives, readjusting the sun visor every few minutes in a weak effort to block the light. For once, Gir sits calmly in the passenger seat, fiddling with a small pile of leaves he grabbed from the campsite before the group’s hasty departure.

“Little tree, little tree…” the small robot mumbles to himself. Dib adjusts the sun visor again, then glances in the rear view mirror.

“Hey, is anyone hungry? I’m starving, and I could use a bathroom.” Gaz pulls away from the window to look at Dib.

“Yeah, I could definitely eat. Zim, you hungry?”

“Yes.”

“I’m hungry too!” Gir yells.

“No, you can not eat.” Zim sighs.

“But I wanna! I want waffles.” Zim’s left antenna twitches.

“No.”

“You know what?” Dib says. “I could go for some waffles. I saw a sign a few miles back for a rest stop in a bit. I have some cash, you guys want to get waffles?”

“Uh, sure. I’ve gotta make the green bean look somewhat human first though.” Gaz shrugs. “Now, where did I put that makeup?”

“What is makeup? Is it gun?” Gaz pauses her rifling of the shopping bags.

“What? No! It’s a disguise for you.” She shakes her head at Zim’s misunderstanding of the English language, smiling ever so slightly.

“Aha!” Gaz pulls an assortment of tubes and brushes out of the shopping bag. She turns triumphantly to face Zim and plops the makeup on the seat in between them,

“This little thing is disguise?” Zim looks incredibly skeptical, and picks up one of the concealers to get a closer look at it.

“Yeah, it’s going to make your skin less green. Like us.” Gaz gestures towards herself, and picks up a tube of concealer to show Zim. “See? It’s like my skin.” Zim taps his fingers against his legs, and frowns.

“And this?” He points at his eyes. Gaz winces, reaching back into the bag once more.

“Yeah… I considered that. I already figured your eyes were too large for contacts, so I um, got these.” She pulls large, round, and darkly tinted sunglasses from the shopping bag, as well as a roll of scotch tape. 

“And since you don’t have ears, or a nose, I’m gonna have to tape them to you face.” She gently places the sunglasses and tape next to the makeup.

“You have to what?”

“Anyway let’s get started!” Obviously she wasn’t in the mood to answer questions, so Zim decides to quietly watch and observe. Gaz reaches for the foundations, and randomly grabs one.

“I don’t use full coverage, so I don’t know these brands that well, so I got a few, just in case one doesn’t cover all the… green.”

“I do not understand.”

“That’s okay, alright, let’s start with your face. Lean in for me?”

“This is gonna be hilarious.” Dib mutters.

“Shut up, Dib.” Gaz growls. He quickly looks back at the road, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. She sighs, and turns her attention back to Zim. Picking what seems to be the best foundation, she opens the bottle and pumps some of the liquid out on the back of her hand. Zim’s face scrunches, and he leans back.

“Chin aom z̀eí’e!”

“Quit complaining, Zim. I promise, this is gonna be fine. Lean in, okay?” He frowns, but leans in anyway. Gaz gently dabs a bit of the thick gel on a brush, and leans in to apply some to Zim’s cheek. He shivers slightly against the coldness of the liquid, but relaxes soon after. Gaz spreads the foundation carefully over his cheek, making sure not to spread it too thin, so his natural green hue doesn’t show through. She adds more concealer around his eyes, using a thin brush to make sure she doesn’t brush any of the liquid onto his eyes.

Zim sits still, and is calm. He only twitches once when the brush comes near his eyes the first time, and from then on he sits still. She spreads the concealer all over his face, as even as she can, but even so a few streaks of green peak out under the peach color of the makeup. When she’s done with his face, he only looks mildly less alien like, the huge red eyes being a large tell. Nonetheless, she moves on to his neck.

She can’t help but focus again on the large scar on the right side of his neck. She wants to ask so badly, but refuses to do so when Dib is within earshot. Sighing, she makes a mental note to ask the next time Dib is gone. Gently, she reaches for his neckline to pull his hoodie forward to spread concealer under the edge of the fabric so his green skin doesn’t poke out. She can feel herself blushing, but thankfully she finishes with his neck quickly.

“Now, can I see your hands?” Zim hesitates, but holds his hands out to her. She hasn’t taken the time to look before, but now she can see that just like the rest of him, small, thin scars adorn the backs of his hands, arching across his fingers and knuckles. Just as carefully as she did on his face, she spreads the makeup out across his hands over his knuckles, in between his fingers. Even onto his claw-like nails. The slightest bit of green could give him away… she had to be thorough.

Finally, after spreading the makeup on his wrists, she applies the setting powder. Just to make sure it doesn’t rub off. Gaz leans back a minute to admire her handiwork. The last step is to somehow put on the sunglasses.

“Can you hold this? Like this?” She lifts the garishly large sunglasses up to Zim’s face, and has him hold them up over his eyes. The large lenses just barely cover up his wide ruby eyes, but it was all they had. With Zim holding the glasses in place, Gaz carefully applied pieces of scotch tape to the sides so the glasses wouldn’t fall off. She grimaces as she applies the tape.

“I’m sorry, but those are going to hurt when they come off…”

“It is okay.”

“Okay, last step…” She reached her hands forward, past Zim’s neck and grabbed his hoodie, and gently tugged the hood up and over his head. Pulling the draw strings so the hood tightens up and obscurs Zim’s face in shadow, she is relieved to find that from a distance, he  _ definitely _ looks human. Thank God.

“You look done, how does he look?” Dib pipes up.

“Good, he looks good.” She whispers.

“Great, because the rest stop is coming up.” The car pulls onto an exit lane, slowing down, and the rest stop comes into view behind a row of trees.

“Waffles?” Gir questions.

“Yeah, sure Gir.”

“Dib, he can’t eat-”

“Yeah well I’m tired of hearing him whine about it.”

“Well, you get to be the one to tell him he can’t order one when we get to the restaurant.” She mutters.

The car pulls into the parking lot of the rest stop, parking far away from the door under a cluster of trees.

“Gir?” Gaz starts, “Can you turn on your disguise?” Gir nods enthusiastically, his whole body shaking from it. His image flickers for just a second, replaced by the same little blonde boy disguise he used at the grocery store.

“If I wear this, can I have waffles?”

“Um… sure…”

“Ha!” Dib exclaims. “You just promised him waffles too!”

“He’s got to keep the disguise on!” Gaz hissed.

“Still, now  _ you _ get to explain to him why-”

“Will we eat, or fight.” Zim deadpans. Gaz shoots him a look, but she unbuckles her seatbelt and exits the car. After everyone gets out of the car, the four of them walk towards the large building, Gir insisting on holding Gaz’s hand. She lets him do this, only to keep him quiet.

“So, what are we having for breakfast?” She asks as they head towards the building.

“Well, there’s probably a number of fast food restaurants inside, but look, there’s an attached diner. I’m voting for that.” Dib points at the faded, multicolor facade of a 1950s style diner, complete with chrome linings on the windows and neon signs.

“This is a human place to eat?” Zim’s facial expressions are hard to make out under the darkness of the hood and large sunglasses, but he doesn’t look impressed.

“Hey, it’s not so bad!” Dib defends.

“Yeah…”

“No really! This is a human tradition! You know, when you go on a road trip, which is basically what we’re doing, you have to go to a diner at some point. And this is definitely a classic american diner.” They reach the doors of the diner, and head inside, the hinges creaking as they walk through. Customers in the diner are few and far between. A few truckers at the high top bar with their coffees, and a couple of families eating breakfast. 

Zim watches, unamused, as a small child near them uses their sleeve to wipe the maple syrup from their face, only succeeding to smear more of it on their cheek. He frowns, feeling his squeedlyspooch lurch a bit.

“Dib, you have low wants.”

“Excuse me? Look I’m telling you, diners are great.” Dib places his hands on his hips, and takes a deep breath of the diner air. He winces.

“Well, maybe this one isn’t so-” Gaz interrupts him.

“Look Zim, they’re not the best, but they’re okay, I promise.”

“Okay.” He nods.

“What? I just said that! And you accept it from her? What’s with that?” Dib demands, a waitress hesitantly approaching them.

“I do not like you.” Gaz coughs in her hand to avoid laughing as Dib’s face flushes with annoyance.

“Oh, real mature Zim.”

“Hi! Can I get y’all a table?” The waitress says.

“Oh, uh, yeah, table for four, please.” Dib responds, gesturing to the four of them. She nods, and picks up four menus and waves the group over to follow her. As they walk, she glances over her shoulder at Gir, still holding hands with Gaz, and smiles at her.

“Your son is real cute ma’am!” Gaz opens her mouth to argue with the waitress, but realizes she can’t deny claim to Gir, because then, well, she’d have to explain where she got a random child.

“Ah, thanks.” She mumbles. Gir’s holographic child form beams with happiness at being called cute.

“You’re welcome! Now, is this table okay?” Gaz notices Zim’s horrified look and quickly speaks.

“Yep! This is good, thanks!” She hustles Zim into the booth, sitting next to him, and directs Gir to sit on the other side with Dib.

“Can I get y’all started with anything to drink?”

“Waffles!” Gir screeches. The waitress doesn’t even blink, definitely having dealt with children before.

“Just water, please.” Gaz says, hoping the waitress goes away. Her smile hasn’t come off her face, but she keeps glancing at Zim, who still looks a little odd. The waitress smiles, and addresses her attention back to Gir.

“You want some waffles, honey? Is that good with mama?” She glances back to Gaz for approval, and Gaz nervously nods.

“Arighty then, I’ll go put in that order for four waters and a kid’s waffles. Do y’all adults know what you want or do you need a minute?”

“I think we’re ready, actually.” Dib says.

“Am I getting waffles?” Gir bounces up and down in his seat.

“Yeah, yeah, me too, buddy. Uh, can I get some waffles too?” 

“Sure thing, sugar! Waffles for you too. And y’all?”

“I’ll have some waffles too, and you Zim?” Zim looks up from the menu he was pretending to read.

“What has sugar? Many sugar?” The waitress’s smile momentarily disappears in shock at hearing Zim’s thick accent, but it’s back within seconds.

“Uh, waffles I guess, maybe with some chocolate in them? And I can put powdered sugar on top of those for ya.” Zim perks up, his antenna pushing up against the back of his hoodie.

“Powdered sugar?”

“Yeah, and of course I’ll bring out maple syrup for ya too, hon.” Zim opens his mouth to ask, but Gaz places her hand over his and whispers to him.

“I’ll explain, okay?” He nods. The waitress finishes writing in her notebook, nods to herself and walks away. Dib stretches and yawns.

“Damn I forgot to order coffee. When she comes back I’m going to ask her for some.” He runs his hand through his hair, the long cowlick bouncing back up into place. “I’m going to go to the bathroom, be right back.” He gets up, leaving Zim and Gaz alone with Gir, who has begun to play with his silverware, clattering them together loudly. Zim begins to tap his fingers against the table and bounce his knee absentmindedly as they quietly watch Gir together.

“When am I getting waffles?” Gir cries out, dropping his silverware to the floor. Zim ignores Gir’s whining and turns his attention to the windowsill, running a disdainful finger along the sill, he lifts his hand and frowns at the amount of dust on his makeup covered fingertip.

“This is a human eating place? It is not nice.”

“Zim, come on, you don’t expect everything to be pristine and clean, do you?”

“Yes, I do.” Gaz rolls her eyes.

“Well, it’s not like that here on earth so you best get used to it.”

“Where are my waffles?” Gir cries.

“They’ll be out soon, Gir. Chill.” The holographic child pouts, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Fuck, don’t cry, Gir.” Gaz immediately is struck by how odd it is that she’s consoling an alien robot, and also realizes that this should  _ not _ be her duty.

“Zim, handle this, will you?” He taps his nails harder against the table, sighing.

“Gir, rith zhul ezoz.” He mumbles, going back to staring out the window. Gaz frowns, grumbling.

“You’re not helping.” Luckily, the waitress comes back with the waters, and brings with her a children’s coloring placemat and crayons.

“Here you go honey!” She coos, placing it in front of Gir. “See, no need to cry, is there?” Gir grins at the new toys, and begins to scribble all over the placemat. Gaz mouths a silent thank you at the waitress, and does not like how she feels like a harried parent. She especially doesn’t like the knowing wink the waitress sends. She turns to leave, but Gaz speaks up.

“Oh, my idiot brother forgot to order coffee.” Gaz says, pointing at Dib’s empty space. “Can I order a coffee for him?” The waitress smiles, and nods.

“Sure thing! I’ll go get you that coffee.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem! And your food will be out soon.” Gir looks up from his coloring and smiles.

“Yay! Waffles!” The waitress laughs and leans down to look Gir in the eyes.

“That’s right baby! Gosh, he’s so cute! What’s his name?” She says, turning back to Zim and Gaz. Thinking quickly, Gaz answers.

“It’s Gerald. Yeah, uh, but we call him Gir for short.”

“We?” The waitress glances between her and Zim. Gaz can feel her stomach knot, but she just nods.

“Yep, he’s always preferred it.” She laughs weakly.

“Huh. Well, let me get y’all your coffee and food.” She says, walking off.

“God, how awkward…” Gaz mumbles to herself. Zim taps his fingers, and nods.

“What did I miss?” Dib announces as he slides into his seat.

“Nothing much, uh, the waitress thinks Gir is  _ our _ son, and I ordered your coffee.”

“Ah, thanks, and- wait what?” Dib grimaces, looking between them. “I don’t like that.”

“Oh, relax Dib. It’s not like we’ll ever see anyone here again.”

“Hmm. Still I-” The waitress came back, carrying a large tray with waffles.

“Waffles!” Gir shrieked, clapping his hands with excitement. She chuckles as she begins to unload the tray.

“That’s right buddy! Waffles!” She places all the other plates, and then hands Zim his sugar covered chocolate waffles.

“Here’s the maple syrup, honey. Y’all need anything else?”

“I think we’re good.” Dib says as he reaches for the sugar packet for his coffee.

“Alright then! I’ll leave y’all to it!” As she walks off, Dib stirs the sugar into his coffee, Gaz begins to cut into her waffles, and Gir faceplants into his waffle, thankfully a waffle that didn’t have any maple syrup on it yet.

“What is maple syrup?” Zim asks.

“Oh! It’s this.” She passes the brown bottle to Zim. “It’s a kind of natural sugar, from trees. It goes on breakfast foods like pancakes and waffles. You’ll like it.” Zim nods excitedly, shakily pouring massive amounts of maple syrup all over his waffles. Dib looks over, disgusted, and gags.

“Okay, Gaz, what is with him and waffles?”

“Huh? Oh, his species eats a lot of it. They need it, just like we need water, apparently.” Dib frowns.

“That doesn’t sound right.” Zim narrows his eyes and scowls at Dib.

“What, you know Irkezeích now?”

“...Good point. How are you still so skinny after eating all that sugar then?” Gaz rolls her eyes.

“He’s an alien, Dib. He metabolizes the sugar differently. Come on, use that big head of yours to think.”

“I do not have a big head!”

“Yes you do.” Zim smiles slyly in between bites of his sugary abomination.

“Why can’t I eat these?” Gir whines, desperately pressing bits of waffle against his holographic mouth.

“You can not eat, Gir.” Zim groans. “You do not have a mouth.”

“That’s not fair!”

“I do not understand.”

“Life isn’t fair.” Dib interjects. “Sometimes, stuff happens. Like, being a robot, I guess.” He reaches for the sugar packets, grabbing one more for his coffee.

“What is that?” Zim points at the sugar packets.

“Oh, sugar. For the coffee.” Dib gestures to his coffee as he stirs. Zim perks up more, and nods.

“Humans eat a lot of sugar too.” He says quietly to himself.

“How’s everything going over here?” The waitress says, coming back to the table.

“It’s good!” Gaz says. “We’re all good thank-”

“I can’t eat my waffle!” Gir cries, shoving his plate of ripped up waffle chunks away from him.

“Oh, honey! You’re supposed to  _ eat _ your food, not play with it!” The waitress chuckles. Do you need help from mama?” Gaz, thinking quickly, jumps to action.

“Actually, uh,  _ honey _ , can you take Gir out to the car? I think he needs a nap.” She looks expectantly at Zim, who continues to eat his waffle in blissful happiness. He looks up, startled.

“What?” Gaz grits her teeth and nudges him under the table. “I think you need to take Gir to the car, to have a  _ nap. _ ” His face lights up in understanding, and he nods. Gaz slides out of the booth to let Zim out, and gestures for Dib to do the same.

“Do y’all want his waffle packed up for later?”

“Yeah, uh, sure.” Gaz knows she’ll say whatever she needs to in order for this waitress to leave them alone. “And can you get the check, please?”

“Sure thing, sugar!” She walks off, and Gaz turns to Zim.

“Okay, can you take him to the car, and put him in sleep mode or something? Just entertain him. We’ll be right there.” Zim nods, and smiles loosely.

“Yes, Gaz. You are right, this establishment is not so bad.” Gaz blinks in surprise.

“What? You like it now?”

“Yes, the food was good!” He turns to Gir, smiling. “A fím, Gir.”

“But I want my waffles!” Zim bends down to Gir.

“ ‘A al a tul kaí, al pat vaí waffles gep. Okay?” Gir nods and jumps up and down. Zim 

turns to Gaz. “I will be at the car. See you there.” He walks off, Gir trotting behind him like an excited puppy. 

“Wonder what he said to get Gir to go with him that easily.” Dib mumbled.

“Well, he said waffles, so it was probably just a promise for more of them.”

“Figures. That waitress had a lot of nerve thinking you guys were a couple.”

“Oh, relax Dib.” Gaz says, sitting back down to finish her waffles. “Let her assume, it doesn’t matter to me.” She muttered, her face flushing.

“Sure it doesn’t matter to you.” Dib paces back and forth in front of the table. “You know what I think?” Gaz sighs.

“What do you think?”

“I think that you-” Dib’s voice was cut off with a thump as he fell to the floor. Gaz looks up, surprised, to not see her brother standing.

Dib rubs the back of his head, wincing in pain from the soreness he felt. He pushed himself up off the floor to see a woman sitting up and off the floor, opposite of him. He felt his heart stop as her face came into view. Long, red hair gently curled around a round face. Her bright green eyes shimmered as her face scrunched up in anger, but Dib didn’t notice. He was too entranced by her eyes. He feels as though he could stare at her forever and-

“Watch where you’re going!” She exclaimed, reaching forward to grab her cell phone.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” Dib scrambled to his feet, offering a hand to help her up. She frowned, then accepted the help, nimbly coming to her feet in no time. She dusted off her flannel, glaring upwards at Dib, being at least a head and a half shorter than him.

“Nice one, dingus.” Gaz muttered.

“I am so, so, sorry. Is your phone okay?”

“My- yes, it’s fine. No thanks to you.” She muttered, pushing back Dib and walking off. He turned around like a lost puppy, watching her leave the diner.

“Pull yourself together Dib.” Gaz said, pulling some cash out of her purse and leaving it on the table.

“She was so pretty…” Gaz rolled her eyes.

“Yes she was. Now come on stupid, we have to go.” Gaz said as she stood. Dib sulked, but followed Gaz out of the diner, pausing at a big map of West Virginia situated outside the door.

“Oh, that’s right. We’re in West Virginia.” He muttered to himself.

“Yeah, we are, incredible observational skills.”

“No, no, no! Gaz! We’re in  _ West Virginia!  _ Look!” He pointed at the map. “We’re here,” He points to a town called Clarksburg. “And the town of Point Pleasant is here! Gaz, that’s the home of the Mothman! We have to go!”

“No, we do not. Have you forgotten  _ why _ we are on a road trip right now?”

“Well, I know, but a little detour wouldn’t kill us!”

“It actually could. Literally.”

“Seriously Gaz, please let me have this one thing. I have always wanted to go there!” Gaz sighed, and took a step towards the map. Below the map were little bifold maps of the contiguous United States. Gaz grabbed one, and opened it.

“Fine, but if you get to pick somewhere, I get to pick somewhere.” She muttered, scanning the map for any attractive destinations. “Aha! Here. I want to go here.” She pointed at the bifold.

“You want to go to… New Orleans? But that’s so far out of the way!”

“Don’t be a whiner, Dib. A deal’s a deal. Oh, and Zim gets to pick a place too.”

“He doesn’t even know America!”

“Don’t care. Do we have a deal?” Dib crossed his arms and sulked.

“Fine.”

“Perfect! Now let’s get the fuck out of here before anyone reports us for being weird.”


	16. Sugar

"Hey Zim." Gaz says as she opens the backseat car door. He smiles calmly at her and gives a small wave. He’s taken the garishly large sunglasses off, and pulled his hood down, but the peachy concealer still remained, making his red eyes stand out even more.

"Hey."

"Did you get Gir under control?" Gaz climbs into the backseat, peering over the front seat to catch a glimpse of Gir.

“I make him sleep.” Gaz nods in understanding, having just seen for herself Gir’s motionless form. The driver’s door opens, Dib steps into the car and begins to fiddle with the wiring to get it to start.

“I want to ask you something, Zim.” Gaz says. Zim’s gaze lazily slides over to Gaz.

“Yes?” Gaz holds the bifold map of America out for Zim to take. In one slow and smooth motion, he gently takes and unfolds the paper. He looks at the paper for a few seconds then looks back up at Gaz.

“What is this?”

“It’s a map, you idiot.” Dib speaks up, still fiddling with the wires. “Never seen a map before?” Surprisingly, Zim simply frowns.

“I did not know word.” He shrugs.

“Anyway,” Gaz continues. “This is a map of America, that’s the country we’re in. It’s a small part of Earth. Understand?”

“Yes? I do not know what country is.”

“Uh, a country is… you know what? We’ll translate with Gir when he wakes up. Just know that we are in a country, and it’s called America, okay?” Zim nods.

“Cool, so here’s the deal. Dib wants to go to this town here,” she points on the map. “And I didn’t really want to go, because I think it’s a dumb idea, but I made a deal with him that if he gets to pick a place, I get to pick a place.” She shifts her finger down the map to point at New Orleans.

“Yeah.” Dib scoffs. “Look at how out of the way that is! I think it’s a huge risk to travel that far.” Zim shakes his head.

“No, it is good to…” He frowns, seemingly unable to find the words. “It is good to…” He puts his hands together and moves them back and forth, like a snake.

“To weave?” Gaz guesses as Dib finally gets the car to start.

“Yes? It is good to move. Army can not find us.”

“Cool, well anyway…” Gaz blushes. “I made part of the deal be that  _ you _ get to pick a place too. Where do you want to go?” She gestures to the map. Zim’s brow furrows in thought as he focuses on the map, scanning the landscapes and border lines. He laughs to himself, and looks up at Gaz.

“I do not know! I do not know this… America.” He gestures at the map in a sort of playful frustration, smiling at Gaz.

“Well then, just pick anywhere! Between here, and there!” Gaz points to where they are currently, and at Los Angeles. Zim stares at the map, his brow furrowed. His eyes scan the page, and after a few more seconds, decides on a location.

“Here. I want to go here.” Gaz stares at his finger on the map, not saying anything. She takes in a deep breath, and speaks.

“Uh, you want… to go there?” She laughs.

“Yes? Is this no good? I can pick one more…”

“No, no! This is  _ fine.  _ More than fine even.” She laughs again, light and airy, like the sound just escaped.

“What? What did he pick?” Dib asks. Gaz snorts, and gets up to lean in between the front seats and shows Dib the map.

“Hey! I’m driving here!”

“There’s a red light coming up. Seriously, you’re going to love this!” The car lurches to a stop, and when Dib gets a look at the map, he explodes into laughter.

“Are you serious? There?” He laughs more. “Does he know what he picked?” Gaz snickers as she sits back in her seat.

“Nope! But I’m not going to let him change it.” She turns to look at Zim, who’s strangely avoiding eye contact, his cheeks darkening with a blush. Strangely, he avoids eye contact.

“I- I’m sorry, Gaz I-” He stutters. Gaz exhales a breathy laugh.

“It’s okay, Zim! The place you picked is just fine, I promise.” He blushes more, and turns to look away.

“I, uh-”

“I promise.” Zim nods, making eye contact for just a second, before turning away again.

“So, where we going?” Dib grins, glancing back towards Zim and Gaz.

“Point Pleasant, West Virginia, home of the mothman!”

“The… what?” Zim mouthed the word ‘mothman’ to himself in confusion.

“You don’t know about mothman?” 

“Of course he doesn’t, Dib.” Gaz rolled her eyes.

“Oh, yeah, well then let me tell you!”

“Please don’t.” Dib ignored her, and continued, grinning in excitement as he drove.

“It all started in 1966, when these guys in a cemetery saw a figure fly over their heads! This was the first sighting of the creature known as  _ mothman _ . Not a very interesting sighting, sure, but it gets better! After a few days, two couples were out driving, and said they saw a large grey flying man, with huge wings and glowing red eyes!” Dib tried to make his voice lower, as if he was telling a ghost story. He removed his right hand from the wheel and waved it around for emphasis as he spoke.

“This is a… human?” Zim asked.

“No! It’s called a cryptid, and… a lot of people say cryptids aren’t real and call me crazy, but you’re kind of a cryptid and you’re here, so I’m sure mothman is too!”

“Excellent reasoning, Dib.”

“Gaz, don’t start. It won’t hurt to at least take a look!”

“I do not trust your judgement.” Zim muttered, crossing his arms and looking out the window, his leg bouncing with restlessness. Dib frowned, and looked into the rearview mirror.

“Come on, don’t gang up on me here! We each got to pick a place, and I picked here. Just indulge me, okay?”

“Fine.” Gaz sighed as Zim nodded.

“Great! Anyway, the sightings continued as time went on, famously around this place called the TNT area, and…”

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“Can we camp out near the TNT area? I promise we won’t camp near any actual TNT.” Dib broke the silence of the car, having long finished his rant on the history of mothman. They were nearing the small, sleepy, town, only a mile or so away now. A few signs pointed to different camp sites and exits coming up, and they needed to decide on a location to sleep for the night that was far away from people.

“I don’t know Dib, isn’t that awfully touristy?” Gaz murmured as she studied a map of Point Pleasant that they had picked up at a rest stop a few miles back. Dib waved his hand loosely in the air.

“Not at all! The mothman festival happened a few weeks ago, so the town is pretty much empty now. Besides, we’ll make sure to camp far away from where anyone might see us.” Gaz raised her eyebrows, and shot a look at Dib.

“You better be sure.” He smiled nervously and nodded.

“I’m sure.” Gaz turned back to her map, looking for places to eat, get food, and that damn museum Dib kept going on about. A few more minutes of silence in the car, and Dib made a turn onto a quiet road named Main Street. They had officially arrived.

The town was remarkably quiet, almost to an eerie extent. Simple brick buildings lined both sides of main street, old and dusty, with only some housing shops and restaurants. Faded, old fashioned advertisements were painted on the sides of some of the buildings, advertising for flour companies long gone and the like. The car Dib drove ambled slowly down the road, as he and his passengers gazed out the windows to observe the town. The shops looked worn down and quiet, but not closed. On the left, a building was labeled as the Mothman Museum, and Dib smiled and pointed excitedly at it.

“Look! There it is! We have  _ got _ to check it out!”

“Whatever you want, Dib.” No sooner had Gaz said that, the famous statue of Mothman came into view, nestled on a small concrete island in the middle of the road in all its shiny, silvery, glory.

“And the statue! I wish I still had my phone and could take a picture-”

“I’m not sorry for getting rid of the phone, and you know why.” Dib pouted, turning his gaze away from the statue and back to the road as he continued driving slowly through the town. Soon, the buildings started to spread out as the main drag ended, and Dib picked up speed, satisfied at having scoped out the town, now wanting to find a place to camp. They drove, the forest covered mountains in the distance passing by slowly as they went further into the wilderness, near the supposed home of the mothman.

After driving for what felt like miles on a winding gravelly road, Gaz felt that they had gone far enough to be safe, and started to scope out a good place to camp for the night that they were in Point Pleasant.

“Look, there’s a small clearing there. I think that will work, what do you think?” She said. Zim nodded in approval at the idea, and the Subaru pulled off the road, and rolled into the clearing, pulling to a gentle stop. The three of them got out, leaving Gir in the passenger seat, still in his sleep mode, and they began to pull out the tents.

“Zim, Dib, can you guys set up the tents while I unload the rest of the stuff?” Gaz grabbed the sleeping bags, tucking them under her arm, and Gir’s leftover waffles in the other hand. “I have a horrible feeling Dib is gonna want to stay a few nights to ‘investigate’, so we might as well get comfortable.”

The clearing is small, with not much room to work in, so Dib and Zim unfold both the tents close to each other, and get to work hammering the stakes in. As they work, Gaz sets up a fire pit, clearing away dry leaves and making a circle of rocks to protect from an accidental forest fire. As Zim gets his first two supports up, he takes a step backwards to admire his handiwork, and accidentally jabs Dib in the back with his elbow.

Gaz finishes arranging the campfire, and goes to find twigs to make a fire, lost in her own thoughts. She blushes to herself as she finally takes the time to realize that she was snuggling so tightly with Zim this morning... But she shakes away the thoughts of what that might mean. However, the image of Zim’s face so close to hers keeps replaying in her mind. She scolds herself, and calmly whispers to no one in particular. 

"The only reason I sleep in his tent is to help him with his nightmares. That's all." She frowns, as the thought of the nightmares draws her mind to what may be causing them. He said he killed his own father, though she doesn't really know why, but maybe that’s what he dreams of? Hell, with the sort of life she feels he may have led, it could be anything. Maybe the dreams have something to do with that scar on his neck? She’s been wanting to ask about it for a while now, but never found the right moment. Her curiosity burned inside her, but she didn't want to upset Zim by asking.

"Cut that shit out Zim!" Dib’s irritated voice breaks her out of her train of thought, and she looked back towards the tents. 

"Cut what out?" Hissed Zim. The two of them stood face to face, fists clenched, faces twisted in annoyance and anger. Dib lifts his arms and shoves Zim. 

"You know what I'm talking about!” 

"Do not  _ touch _ me." Zim snarls, shoving back.

"I can do whatever I want!" Dib shouted as he pushed Zim back.

“Is that what you think?” 

"Guys, cut it out!" Gaz yelled, but they ignored her. Zims eyes narrowed, and he shoved Dib again, this time pushing so hard that Dib fell backwards, right onto the white styrofoam box of Gir’s leftover waffles.

Zim stood over Dib, his fists still clenched in anger, but Dib’s face went slack as he realized what he fell on. He rolled off the crushed box, and looked at it in horror. Zim’s face relaxed as the realization came to him too, just as Gaz caught up with them in the clearing

"Shit." Dib muttered. 

"What the hell are you two doing?" Gaz sighed as she dropped her kindling on the campfire. Dib pointed numbly at the smashed box.

"I crushed Gir’s waffles." He said quietly. 

"Yeah, I can see that." 

"No good." Zim whispered to himself. Gaz stared at the two of them, thinking about the different ways she could yell at them for being  _ idiots _ when the realization clicked, and her face went slack. 

"Oh, shit. You crushed his waffles." 

"He pushed me!" Dib pointed at Zim. 

"You push me!" Zim takes a threatening step closer to Dib. 

"Guys guys! Let’s not start this stupid fight again, okay? Zim, how long do we have until Gir wakes up?" Zim glanced over at Gaz, his eyes narrowed in thought.

"A hour? I think?" 

"Okay. We just need to get more waffles. I don't think Gir will care, but if your bickering becomes the cause of me having to deal with a toddler style temper tantrum, I will  _ end you both. _ ”

Dib shifted nervously on his feet, and looked at his sister. 

"…Guess we'll have to get more waffles then." Gaz nodded, and gestured for them to follow her as she turned back towards the car.

"Yep. Okay, everyone get in the car, let's go save our future eardrums."

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“What is this name?” Zim asked as they pulled into the parking lot. Luckily for a group of people trying to stay under the radar, it was near noon on a tuesday, and the store seemed to not be busy. Zim pulled his hoodie up as Gaz touched up his makeup.

“It’s called a supermarket. They sell food mostly, but some have other things as well. This one is an Aldi, so it mostly sells food. Hopefully they have some frozen waffles or something.”

“Do these… supermarket have different name? Why Aldi?” Dib laughed as he unbuckled his seatbelt. Gaz ignored him and continued patiently.

“It’s like a type of supermarket. There are lots of Aldis, and Walmarts, and Targets, but they’re all owned by different people, so they’re different from each other.” She nods to herself as she observes her makeup work, satisfied with the apparent human-ness of Zim. She hands him the sunglasses, and a bit of tape, and helps him put them on. Once Zim was ready and humanized, the trio got out of the car, covering Gir with a spare blanket so he didn’t get stolen.

“Do we need a cart?” Dib asked as they walked towards the store.

“Nah, we’re just here for waffles. Besides, do you even have a quarter?” He paused in his steps and began rummaging in his pockets.

“I’m pretty sure I do…”

“Dib, we don’t need a cart. It’s fine.”

“Oh.” He pulled his hands out of his pockets, jogging a little to catch up with the other two. They entered the store, the chill of the air conditioned space making the late september weather seem warmer by comparison. A few shoppers mingled around, and the trio slowly began to amble their way through the store. Zim began to slow down and trail behind Dib and Gaz, trying to observe the packed scene before him. He reached into his sweater pocket, and pulled out a few sugar packets he had discreetly swiped from the diner and absentmindedly ate them as he walked.

“Gaz, what is this?” Zim stopped near the end of the produce section, and looked confused at the selections. She turned on her heel to see what he was looking at, and realized that it was going to be a  _ long _ shopping trip.

“Those are grapes. It’s a type of fruit, like apples. You like apples, remember?” He nodded, and looked up at Gaz, with a smile on his face.

“Baby apples.”

“I mean, not really, but eh, close enough.” She shrugged, and turned back to walk forward and find waffles. 

Zim circled the produce, curiously observing the different fruits and their variations. His fingers twitched and he fidgeted in place as he struggled to read the labels adorning the metal shelves. Having felt satisfied in his observations, he took a step back, and continued down the aisle he had been walking down, not looking ahead of him, just side to side at the aisles full of unknown foods and snacks. Just past the produce was a huge section full of cookies and sweets, and he stopped dead in his tracks, the thick smell of sugar hitting him like a wall. His mouth watered as he took a closer look at the baked goods, and he turned to ask Gaz if they could get some, only to see that she was not there. His happiness turned to panic as he frantically began to look around, and could not see her.

"Gaz?" He whispered, not wanting to draw attention to himself. No response.

"Gaz?" He tried again, and felt the eyes of a few passerby looking at him. His stomach dropped, and he knew that wasn’t good. He tried to back up against an aisle wall, desperately trying to blend in and turned to walk quickly away. He turned a corner, and almost ran right into Gaz. He stopped a foot in front her, and she caught him by the shoulders and looked concernedly into his face.

"Zim? What's the matter?"

"I couldn’t find you.” Her eyes widened in surprise, and she slid her hands down his arms in a soothing gesture.

"Oh. I was just in the next aisle, Zim." 

"I’m sorry." 

"No it’s okay! I guess I just have to try and keep track of you." She laughed.

"What we need to be keeping track of is where the hell the waffles are." Dib grumbled. 

"Shut up, Dib." She rolled her eyes and then returned her gaze to Zim.

"How about… Okay so there's this thing called a call and response. I say something, and you say something back. It’s always the same thing though. Does that make sense?" 

"No." 

"Well… Let’s still try this. From now on, if you ever get lost, I want you to say 'Marco', and I’ll say polo, and you'll follow the sound of my voice, and I’ll follow the sound of yours." Zim looked confused but he nodded, wanting to make Gaz happy.

"Say Marco." Gaz prodded.

"Marco?" 

"Polo!" She smiled. "Do you get it?" His fingers twitched and he nodded slightly, looking more sure of himself now.

"When I can not see you, I say Marco... listen for Polo and I find you?" He said slowly.

"Yeah, it’s easy, I promise." She whispered, running her hands back up his arms.

Dib shifted awkwardly on his feet and called out to them. "Can we go get those waffles now?" Gaz quickly removed her hands, seemingly just realizing what she was doing, and blushed.

“Yeah.” She said, and the trio turned to walk up another aisle, in silence. This aisle was full of household items, and Zim’s eyes widened as he gazed upon all the kitchy gadgets and little decorative doodads. He paused to observe a box advertising a panini press, and wanted so badly to look inside the box and take the appliance apart. He bent down to look at the appliances on the lower shelves, and Gaz cleared her throat. Looking up at her, he was confused that her face was still red, but ignored it.

“What?” He asked. She looked away from him, but gestured for him to follow her.

“Come on, stupid, I don’t want you getting lost again.” He followed her, trying hard not to get distracted by all the interesting human household items. He fished another sugar packet out of his pocket, and continued to trail Dib and Gaz. Turning another corner, the three of them finally reached the freezer section, and Gaz walked down the aisle, slowly scanning the products and signs until she found what she was looking for. She sighed, and placed her hands on her hips in frustration.

“They’re out. Now what?”

“You’re kidding. They’re out of waffles?” Dib went to peer through the glass as well, and Gaz rolled her eyes.

“What, you don’t trust me? They’re out.” Dib pushed his glasses up his nose, and tapped his chin in thought.

“You know, I saw a waffle maker back in that home goods aisle-”

“We have nothing to plug a waffle maker into, Dib.”

“-And a small, camping generator. Super cheap too. If we get that, and some waffle mix, we can make endless amounts of waffles for Gir.” Gaz looked like she was going to argue, then thought to herself, sighed, and nodded.

“That’s… not a bad idea.” She mumbled. Dib beamed, and pointed back to where the home goods aisle was.

“Sweet! Let’s do it.” Dib marched off in the direction he pointed, with Zim and Gaz following his confident stride. However, they went in a slightly different direction, passing the baking aisle, and Zim could smell it again, stronger this time. Sugar. Lots of it. He stopped, and looked for it, wandering into the aisle, he struggled to read the signs and tried to find it purely by scent. And there it was. A pallet, full of bags of sugar. He hungrily stared at the display, and picked up a bag of sugar, feeling the weight in his hands. He knew he wanted this more than the cookies, and when he turned once more to ask Gaz, she was not there.

Immediately, the same panic as before began to rise, but he pushed it down, struggling to remember what it was that Gaz had said. Taking a step in the direction that he had walked in, he called out, hesitantly.

“Marco?” He waited a few seconds, and then with an enormous wave of relief, a response came.

“Polo!” Gaz’s voice rang out over the background sounds of the supermarket, his antennae lifting under his hoodie, trying to snap in the direction her voice came from. He smiled, and called again, taking steps forward.

“Marco!” Quicker this time, her voice filled the air.

“Polo!” She was closer now. Zim walked faster, and called out one more time.

“Marco!” As soon as the word left his lips, Gaz rounded a corner, and smiled when she saw him.

“Polo.” She whispered. Her eyes fell to the bag of sugar in his hands, and she laughed.

“Are you serious? Do you want that?” He stared at her blankly for just a second, then nodded. She rolled her eyes and waved for him to follow her.

“Come on then, Dib’s lining up in the checkout. We got waffle mix, a generator, and a waffle maker. We can get you some straight sugar too, weirdo.”

As they walked down to the checkout, she reached out to take his hand in hers. Zim glanced down at it and softly smiled, tightening his hand around hers in return.


	17. Camera

“So… Where to now, Dib?” Gaz asked as the three of them loaded up into the car. Gir, luckily still in sleep mode. Dib’s face lit up with excitement and Gaz immediately felt as though she had made a huge mistake in asking.  
“Well, we have to go to the museum! I want to see all the evidence they have, and-”

“Dib, I doubt they have any evidence.” Gaz scoffed as she put her seatbelt on. Dib frowned, looking through the rear view mirror to scowl at Gaz.

“How would you know? You don’t know anything about this.”

“Why on earth would I want to?”

“Come on Gaz ! What could be cooler than mothman?”

“Yí ogaícheí, yí ogaícheí. Al kha az usped.” Zim muttered. Dib rolled his eyes and shot him a look.

“No one asked you.” Dib grumbled, fiddling with the wires of the car and getting it to start.

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Dib hummed happily to himself with the excitement of exploring the town.

“I hate lemon demon.” Gaz muttered. Dib seemingly ignored Gaz’s comment, and continued to hum to himself in happiness as he drove. Gaz looked away from the window, at the other side of the car, to see Zim happily downing sugar packets… Suspiciously like the ones that were at the diner.

“Where did you get those?” She asked, raising an eyebrow playfully. Zim’s antenna lowered almost in shame, and he tapped his hand against his leg.

“I… The morning, yes?” He sheepishly grinned. “The diner… I want sugar so…”

“Okay, sugarholic.” Gaz laughed, turning back to look out the window. The car fell silent, save for Dib’s humming and the sound of Zim tearing open diner sugar packets. Soon, they arrived back at the town, and Dib stopped humming, only to replace it with excited yammering about the town.

“The french founded this town, I think, not that that really matters… what  _ really _ matters is the mothman! Okay so his first appearance was in 1966, although I think you’ll learn that at the museum. He’s huge! A whopping six to eight feet, with a monstrously large wingspan and-”

“Dib, if you’re gonna make us go to this museum you can shut up about it now.”  
“Come on Gaz! Let me live a little.” He whined as he pulled into a parking spot on the main street of the town.

“No.” She smirked. Making sure that Gir was safely tucked away under a jacket, the three of them exited the car. It was a sleepy town, and there was hardly anyone walking up or down the streets. Zim frowned, the atmosphere of the town was… odd. The three of them all felt it, and while it was eerie to Zim and Gaz, Dib was excited.

“Come on guys! Let’s explore!” A few blocks away, there was a sign for the museum, but as they neared it, Dib stopped and peered into one of the shop windows. He excitedly walked into the shop, with Gaz and Zim trailing behind.

“What is it, Dib?”

“They have some of those new polaroid cameras here, I can take pictures of the mothman!”

“You’re not going to find mothman Dib-”

“Shh!” He whirled around and pointed at her. “You don’t know that, oh ye of little faith!” She rolled her eyes, and followed Dib into the shop, Zim trailing behind her.

It was a cute little shop, mostly filled with mothman themed clothing and gifts, but had a few other odds and ends lined up against one of the brick walls. Gaz went to go look at some of the clothes, admittedly finding the mothman themed leggings a bit cute, and Zim followed her like a lost puppy, occasionally pulling out a sugar packet to eat.

“What do you think of these, Zim?” Gaz asked, pulling up a pair of the leggings to show him. He smiled sheepishly, nodding his approval at the leggings.

“How are you kids doing today?” A middle aged man, slightly balding and portly, walked up to the two of them, a friendly smile on his face. Gaz took a subtle, but protective step in front of Zim.

“We’re good, how about you?” The shop owner nodded, looking over her shoulder at Zim. Zim’s eyes narrowed behind the large sunglasses, suspicious as to why this man was taking interest. The man took his gaze off of Zim, cheerfully turning back to Gaz.

“I’m doin’ just fine, thanks for asking! Oh, we’re having a sale on those leggings, buy one, get one half off!”

“Oh, that’s nice, thanks for-”  
“What is ‘sale?’” Zim asked, leaning in to look at the leggings inquisitively. The shopkeeper looked surprised for a moment, before he smiled at Zim.

“Not from around here, are you son?” Zim smiled confusedly, his fingers twitching.

“I am… My english is not good.” The shopkeeper laughed, and turned to Gaz.

“Where’s he from? You know, normally I can place any accent, but I’m stumped with him.” Gaz nervously chuckled, and tried to think quickly.

“He’s, um, he’s from… Czechoslovakia.”

“Pfft, no he’s not. Czech is completely different.” The shopkeeper said, his voice taking on a suspicious tone.

“He’s from a really small, uh, isolated part of Czechoslovakia. They speak a different language there. He’s a foreign exchange student, trying to learn english, you know?” The shopkeeper nodded, raising his eyebrows in a look of disbelief, but seemingly accepted the excuse Gaz told. She was mentally kicking herself in the head for that one, but hopefully it would all slide under the radar.

“Huh. Never heard of that. I’m really good with accents, you know? Like, I betcha that you speak spanish, don’t you.” Gaz blinked surprisedly and nodded. 

“Yeah, how did you-”

“Like I said.” He murmured. “I’m good with accents.” He stepped back, clapping his hands together. “Well, let me know if you kids need anything.” He said, walking away towards the back of the building. Gaz wanted to leave. The interaction… unnerved her, and she was worried about blowing Zim’s cover. Zim, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered at all. He just ripped open another sugar packet and meandered over to look at the mothman themed jewelry. Nervously, she followed Zim to look at what he was looking at, a subconscious part of her wanting to be around in case the shopkeeper came back. Standing behind him, she noticed his hands subtly shaking, as he tried to pick up a necklace to look at it.

“Are you okay-”

“Hey Gaz!” Dib shouted, interrupting her. She spun around on her heel to face him.

“What?” She hissed. Dib ignored her outburst, and walked up to her, waving a brand new polaroid camera.

“The owner was super nice and gave me a discount! If, I’m sorry,  _ when _ we find mothman, I can get a photo!” Gaz rolled her eyes.

“Sure, Dib.” She paused, glancing back at the direction of the shopkeeper.

“Can we get out of here?” She whispered.

“Uh, sure, why?”

“I just want to leave. Let’s go, okay?” Dib nodded, and he made his way to the door. “Come on, Zim.” She said, grasping at his sleeve to pull him along. The three exit the store, and the shop falls silent. A few minutes later, a sheriff came in, taking off his hat as he grabbed a pair of socks off the shelf and walked up to the shopkeeper.

“Hey Paul.” The sheriff said. He sat the socks on the corner, and began fishing in his pocket for his wallet.

“Hey Mark, how’s it going?”

“It’s going, you know, any business today?” Paul placed his hands on the counter and frowned.

“Yeah, a couple of weird kids came in and one of them bought a camera.”

“Weird kids?” Mark pulled a few bills out of his wallet and placed them on the counter.

“Yeah. One of them was… extra strange. Real tall guy, big sunglasses and a chopped off nose. Weird hands too. But the weirdest thing about him is I couldn’t place where he was from.”

“That’s strange, for you, that is.”

“No kidding! The girl he was with said he was Czech, but that was total bullshit, you know?”

“Nowhere near Czech?”

“Yeah, nothing like it. But hey, I could be wrong.”

“Yeah…” The sheriff muttered to himself. “What did you say they looked like?”

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“This is so cool! Look at all this stuff, Gaz!” Dib leaned in closely to the glass to be able to read the witness testimonies preserved there. They had finally made it the mothman museum, which was really just a two room operation, with a front gift shop and a larger room housing the museum. A sectioned off corner in the back was currently playing some mothman documentary, and the museum was decorated with effigies of the cryptid. Dib was delighted, like a kid in a candy shop, happily perusing the newspaper clippings, photographs, and witness testimonies. Gaz trailed after him, only reading the clippings as a means of entertainment, and Zim trailed after her, being unable to read english, he was terribly bored. All he could do was observe the effigies and photographs. He tried to watch the documentary, but his stunted skills with the language just left him confused as to what story was trying to be told.

“Wow,” Dib said. “I mean, I know sightings are few and far between now, but I know he’s out there somewhere! He’s got to be!”

“Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say.” Gaz sighed.

“Tonight, we shall find the mothman!” 

“Him?” Zim pointed at one of the stuffed dolls in the corner. Dib nodded excitedly.

“Yes! Well uh, the real one, anyway.”

“Ah. Why?” Dib frowned at this, and turned fully to face Zim.

“So I can be a great paranormal investigator, of course!”

“Right.” Gaz laughed sardonically.

“Oh come on Gaz. I mean, look, he’s here so-” Gaz turned so quickly and with a glare so pointed that Dib immediately fell silent.

“Kindly shut the fuck up? Okay?” She hissed. Dib winced, and turned back to the newspaper clippings.

“Sorry.” He mumbled.

“Watch what you say, Dib. You never know who’s listening.” She walked away from him, going to look at a different part of the museum to calm down. Like always, Zim stayed nearby. Not that she would tell anyone, but she was beginning to really like his presence. It was kind of relaxing. His habits were nice too. The way he ran his fingers over words he was trying to read, or how when he was interested in something his antenna stood straight up. Even with the hoodie on she could see him trying to raise his antenna like that. It made her smile.

To Gaz, it felt like they were in that small museum for hours, even though it was probably only thirty minutes, she wanted to leave. She could handle Dib quietly talking to himself about the mothman for so long. Looking for an excuse, she turned to Zim.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes!” He smiled eagerly, his sharp teeth glinting under the fluorescent lights. Gaz turned around, and called out to Dib.

“Hey, can we go now? We’re hungry. I saw a pizza place just down the other way.”

“Oh, uh, sure. I guess I’m good.” Dib frowned, but he didn’t want to get between Gaz and a pizza. He took one last look around the museum, trying to absorb it permanently, and finally headed for the door.

“I’d love to get something from the gift shop…” He muttered.

“No, Dib. Come on, let’s get some pizza.” He sulked a bit, but followed them out of the museum and onto the street.

“Where was this pizza place?”

“Just down there. Look.” A sign advertising for pizza, burgers, and fries, jutted out of the side of one of the old brick buildings, a faint aroma of food hanging in the air.

“Oh.” He said, and the three of them set off towards the restaurant. The pizza place was dark, not because it was closed, but just because of poor lighting. Booths lined both walls, and the tiled floor looked like it needed a good clean, but the pizza smelled good. A few other patrons were in the establishment, but for the most part it was empty. A tired looking teenage boy came walking around the counter in the back, tucking a notepad into his apron.

“Hey guys.” He called out. “My name is David and I’m gonna be taken care of y’all. Uh, sit anywhere you like, okay?” Gaz took charge, pointing the three of them towards an empty booth, strategically far away from any other patrons. They took their seats, and the waiter began his normal spiel as he handed them menus.

“Welcome to Rio’s, what can I get you to drink?”

“Just waters for us.” David nodded, and briskly walked away. Gaz glanced at the menu, and groaned. 

“Dib, don’t-”

“I want the mothman pizza.” She rolled her eyes.

“Absolutely not. It’s so expensive, and probably tastes disgusting. We’re getting cheese.”

“Oh, come on Gaz! It’ll make a  _ great _ picture.”

“I said no, Dib.” He folded his hands on the table and turned to Zim, who was sitting next to Gaz.

“What about you, Zim? Want some mothman pizza?”

“I-”

“He barely understands Eart- uh, american cuisine. Don’t bring him into this.”

“I want what Gaz want.” Zim said decidedly. Dib slumped in his seat in defeat.

“Of course you do.” He mumbled.

“Don’t start, Dib.” Gaz warned.

“…So no mothman pizza?”

“No." Dib fiddled with his camera as they sat in silence, Zim tapping his fingers against the table, and the ambient music and talking of the other diners wafting through the air.

“ _ In a clearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his trade- _ ” 

While it had been a stressful day, and a hell of a stressful week or so, Gaz thought it was kind of nice. Sure, her brother got on her nerves  _ a lot _ , but she hadn’t seen him in a while, and the atmosphere in the restaurant was nice. The sunlight came through the glass door in rays, softly carrying the dust to the ground, like a gentle hand. It’s almost a picturesque scene, she thinks. Rudely interrupted by the waiter coming up with their waters.

“So, what can I get y’all to eat?” He said as he placed the glasses on the table.

“A moth-”

“No.” Gaz sharply said, glaring at Dib. He winced, and looked down at his hands. Shooting him one more glance, she turned towards the waiter. “We’re going to have one large cheese pizza, please.” David nodded, not even bothering to write it down in his notebook, and walked off towards the back of the restaurant. Dib placed his hands on the table and twiddled his thumbs together.

“So, after this, wanna take photos in front of the mothman statue?”

“Not really, but I have a feeling you’re going to relentlessly bug me about it until I give in.” Dib grinned, and nodded excitedly.

“Great! It’ll be fun, don’t worry!”

“I’ll try not to.”

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

“So, Alex. How’s it going with your wife?” Major Ian Johnson and General Alex Drewey sat side by side under a tent, looking over road maps and reports as they tried to figure out the alien’s next move. Ian sipped his coffee every few minutes, flipping through the pages of random ‘alien sightings’ trying to decide if there were any of merit. Alex sighed, putting his paperwork down and leaning into the back of his folding chair.

“Well, you know… she still has the kids, which I guess works out right now but I want to see them. She’s still fighting for full custody, but I swear I’m doing everything I can to get her to leave that douche in Rhode Island.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry to hear that, have you made any headway?”

“Sort of. I told her I was possibly getting a big promotion soon, and that I could spend more time with her and the kids after that.” Ian looked up from his paperwork, shocked.

“You didn’t tell her about what’s going on here, did you? I mean I know you want her back but-”

“Of course not! How could you even think I would do that?” Alex said incredulously. Ian rubbed his face and sighed, feeling more tired every minute.

“Sorry man, I’m just stressed. I know you wouldn’t do that… Anyway, what did she say?” 

“She said to call her back when I got it.” Alex grumbled, folding his hands across his chest.

“Hey, cheer up. I’m sure you’ll get the promotion. She’ll come to her senses, okay?” Ian gave Alex a reassuring pat on the back, then picked up his paperwork once more.”

“I hope so… I really miss her Ian.”

“I know.” They sat in silence for a few minutes, just the rustling of papers and soldiers talking in the background.

“Did you hear about Chloe?” Ian asked.

“Who?”

“Chloe.” Ian turned in his chair and placed his hands on his knees. “She’s one of the newer nurses at base. Rumor has it she went missing.”

“Really? When?”

“Yesterday. Right in the middle of her shift.”

“Oh.” Alex winced. “You know, Norton probably got bored.” A shiver went down Ian’s back, but his curiosity got the best of him.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh yeah… you’re new to this division. Every so often one of those nurses or doctors or whoever works with him disappears. Everyone has their own theories, but I think he gets bored.”

“You’re kidding. And he gets away with that?” Ian felt sick.

“Sure does. He does important work, and well, you didn’t hear it from me but apparently if you’re a  _ psychopath _ that’s okay as long as you’re a good doctor.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Hey, just stay out of Norton’s way and you’ll be fine. He’s harmless… to us, that is.”

“Right.” Ian mulled this over before speaking again. “Are we doing the right thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“I just… I don’t know. I feel like we’re making a mistake.” Alex laughed, and slapped a hand against Alex’s back.

“Relax. We’re just doing our jobs. Besides, it’s an alien for Christ’s sake. If you’re going to get this worked up about it I would focus on people like Chloe first.”

“Well I-” A young soldier walked into the tent and saluted.

“Sir!”

“At ease, private.” Alex said calmly. “What is it?”

“Sir, a new report.” The soldier held out a piece of paper. “This one is urgent. Filed by a sheriff.” Ian glanced at the paper, his eyebrows raising with surprise.

“This one is definitely more legit than the others.” 

“What’s it say?”

“A sheriff in a small town in West Virginia… Reported spotting the membranes and a third ‘foreign’ person. It’s odd that he didn’t mention the green skin…”

“Well, that’s the best news we’ve gotten all day. Let’s pack up and roll out!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accent guy is a real person I met... people are weird.


	18. Garden

Gaz lounged around the firepit, full from the pizza at lunch, and watched Zim desperately try to restrain Gir, who had come out of sleep mode and was seemingly trying to play some sort of game. Jumping and chattering on in Irken, Zim exasperatedly trying to get him to calm down. It was almost cute… She shook herself from that thought and turned to look at Dib, who was tiredly stirring the waffle mix. He had too much pizza and tuckered himself out. Zim surprisingly didn’t have all that much, seemingly full on sugar. Turning back to look at Zim, he was standing on the edge of the campsite, and yelled into the woods.

“Eífi! Al pat a anich!” He gestured with his hand in defeat, and walked back to the firepit.

“What was that about?” Zim rolled his eyes as he sat down next to her.

“He want to play in trees.” He gestured at the forest. “I say no, but he go.” He shrugged.

“Uh, won’t he get lost?” Zim shook his head.

“I don’t think so. He is not fix, so I don’t know.”

“Well, what am I wasting my time doing this then?” Dib said, stepping away from the waffle mix and coming to join them around the campfire.

“I mean, you were wasting your time anyway. It’s not like Gir could eat it.” Gaz said with a laugh. Dib frowned at her, and crossed his arms.

“I was doing a vital service! That little weirdo would have thrown a hissy fit if somebody didn’t do it.”

“Oh sure Dib,  _ vital _ .” Zim snickered at Gaz’s tone and Dib huffed angrily at this.

“Oh come on! You didn’t want to do it and he can’t read the instructions!”

“Ao! I can read, but not English.” Zim retorted. 

“Sure. Gaz next time we go into town you should pick up some baby books for lizard here.”

“That’s… actually not a bad idea.” Gaz muttered to herself.

“What is baby book?” Zim asked.

“It’s a book for children, you know, baby? To learn how to read. It might help you.”

“I would like that.” He said quietly. His antenna sticking up and forward, like they did when he was interested.

“Anyway-” Dib said, stretching where he sat. “I was thinking that tonight we actually do some investigating in the mothman sighting areas.”

“In your dreams, Dib.”

“Oh, come on Gaz! What else are we doing tonight, honestly.” Gaz rolled her eyes, and gestured to the firepit.

“Want to make yourself useful and get some firewood? Tell you what,  _ then _ I’ll consider hunting for mothman.” Dib groaned, but got up to look anyway, walking past Gaz and Zim as he made his way towards the forest. The sounds of him complaining under his breath drifting further and further away. The forest wasn’t silent by any means, but the ambient animal noises were peaceful. Zim seemed fully enthralled yet again in the woods around him, being so unused to things like it back on his home planet. Gaz felt bad for him, a bit. He had mentioned before that forests were rare on Irk. She wasn’t a nature loving hippie by any means, but an entire planet where forests were a thing of the past? It just sounded… sad. 

“My mother had baby trees.” Zim said abruptly, breaking the quiet that surrounded them.

“What?” Gaz tried not to laugh as she turned her body to face him. His antenna twitched and his face scrunched up with frustration, but he tried again.

“Baby trees… It is not like… It is…” He frowned, and then looked around him at the nature, looking for something.

“Ah!” He exclaimed, a pak leg exiting and reaching a few feet over, plucking a dandelion from the ground. Slowly, the leg retreated, handing the plant to Zim, and he triumphantly turned to face Gaz.

“See? Baby tree. My mother had place like this,” He gestured to the clearing, “With many of them.” Gaz smiled as his attempt to explain, and accepted the dandelion gift he was offering her.

“This is a flower. A lot of them would be… your mother having a garden.” Zim tilted his head in confusion.

“A garden? Yes, that is it, I think.” He smiled, a sad sort of smile, focusing on the dandelion in Gaz’s hand. “Earth has many garden. My mother would like it here.” Gaz sighed, and gently placed a hand on Zim’s shoulder as support.

“Zim, you said… you said you didn’t have parents… anymore. Now, I know what happened to your father, but your mother, is she-”

“Dead.” His voice was quiet, choked out as if he was holding back a sob.

“I’m sorry, Zim.”

“It is my fault.”

“No.” Gaz shook her head and leaned in. “No, you know that’s not true. It’s not your fault.”

“I am  _ weak. _ ”

“Zim-”

“Waffle time!” Gir screamed, interrupting her train of thought, and startling them both. The two of them turned to look at Gir, who had somehow quietly walked up to the waffle maker, and plugged it into the generator, happily pouring the mix in. The little robot was humming to himself as he worked, stirring the waffle mix as he waited for the waffle maker to heat up.

“I- how does he know how to do that?” Gaz asked in disbelief. Letting out some of the previous tension, Zim laughed weakly and shrugged.

“He can read the box.”

“Good point.” Zim looked like he was going to say something, but his antenna swivelled up and around like a nervous rabbit. Turning around in his seat, he looked at the edge of the woods, and held still, waiting.

“What is it?” His antenna twitched but he didn’t say anything, looking focused and on edge. Gaz squinted, trying to see if she could see anything, but there was nothing there. Suddenly, she heard it. A clumsy rustling coming from the forest. Zim’s antenna were straight and rigid, pointing towards the treeline. He slowly stood, taking a careful step forward, a pak leg slowly coming out with his gun. A lone figure began to appear, stumbling over the sticks and branches of the forest floor, emerging to be… Dib. Zim sighed annoyedly, his pak leg retreating quickly into his pak, and he sat back down with Gaz.

“Wow!” Dib exclaimed as he came close, clutching a decent sized amount of twigs and branches for kindling. “What’s got you on edge?”

“You are loud.” Zim said, not even bothering to turn around.

“Really? I was trying to be quiet… Gaz did you hear me?” He said, coming up to stand behind them.

“Not until you came close. Zim has better hearing than I do, I think.”

“It’s the antenna, right?” Dib leaned in closer, watching with interest as the antenna twitched, Zim frowning. Dib reached out and murmured to himself. “I wonder what they’re made of?” He reaches his hand out, his fingers just grazing one antenna when a pak leg shoots out and grabs his wrist.

“Ow!”

“Don’t touch.” Zim hissed, turning around to glare at Dib.

“Let go of me!” Zim growled, but the pak leg retreated, and Dib rubbed his sore wrist.

“That’s what you get, Dib.” Gaz said, matter of factly.

“I was just curious.” He grumbled as he walked to the other side of the firepit, taking his seat. He slumped down, and pulled out some photos they took earlier to look at them. Shuffling through them like a deck of cards. 

“Lesi, do you want waffles?” Gir called out, pulling a rather burnt looking waffle from the waffle maker. Zim winced at the appearance of it, deciding that he wasn’t hungry.

“Kaí kho ú núʻol, Gir.” Gir immediately wined, and threw his head back like an upset child.

“Please Lesi! Please! I made them specially for you! Look- just the way you like it!” Gir proceeded to rip open the top of Zim’s bag of sugar, and pour a gracious quantity over the waffle. Holding the burned, sugary abomination in his hands, he shuffled his feet over to Zim, and held it out like an offering.

“Please?” Zim sighed, looking from Gir to Gaz, who shrugged, and back to Gir.

“Eífi. ‘Aos al a’e keíraoguch ij…” He muttered under his breath. Gir beamed at this, happily skipping back to the waffle maker.

“I knew you would like it!” Gir said.

“That’s… a lot of sugar Zim.” Gaz remarked, raising an eyebrow at the waffle.

“Yeah,” Dib laughed. “You’re going to have a heart attack with all that stuff.”

“It is fine.” Zim said, cautiously taking a bite of the waffle.

“Well? How is it?” Gaz asked, grimacing at the thought of eating that thing. Zim tilted his head, thinking, then replied.

“Not bad. Sugar help.” He smiled. Gaz rolled her eyes, turning away to look at Dib, who was still thumbing through the polaroids.

“Hey, lemme see some of those.”

“Sure.” Dib said, handing them over. While Zim happily munched on his sugar-waffle, Gaz flipped through the pictures, until she got to one that made her burst out laughing.

“What is this?” She waved the photo in the air, and Dib struggled to get a good look at it.

“I can’t see! Show me the picture?” She handed it over, still laughing. Dib glanced at it, and then rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on, Gaz! It was funny!” She reached forward and swiped the photo back from him before he even had time to react.

“What is it?” Zim mumbled, his mouth full of waffle.

“Remember when we looked at that silly statue today?” Zim nodded, confused. “Well Dib decided to take this shot as well.” She handed the picture over, and Zim immediately let out a snort, trying not to choke on his food.

“Come on guys, you can’t tell me it’s not funny.” Dib whined.

“It’s hysterical! Definitely funnier now that you took a photo of the statues  _ behind _ .”

“Gaz, you said yourself it was funny.”

“Yeah but I didn’t feel the need to take a candid shot! Now I know the real reason you want to find this thing. Photos of mothman’s juicy ass is what you're after!”

“Why do you gotta ruin this for me?”

“This is it. The real reason behind his paranormal investigations. What, does bigfoot have a dumptruck back there too?”

“My work is very serious.”

“Oh sure!” She steeled her face and lowered her voice. “Very serious indeed.” Dib huffed, reaching out for the photo.

“Just give it back, okay? Geez it’s not that deep.”

“Oh  _ relax _ Dib! I’m just messing with you.” She managed to squeeze out between laughs, cheerfully handing the photo back to him. He frowned, but tucked the photo back in with the rest of the polaroids. Zim took another bite of his waffle, before setting it aside, standing up to go get a bottle of water from the car. Humming to himself as he walked, a tune that Gaz didn’t recognize. Huh, she thought. Music from another planet.

Zim returned with his bottle of water, plopping himself back down on the log bench, eagerly reaching to finish off the rest of his sugary concoction.

“So.” Zim said as he finished. “You are Gaz brother?”  
“Uh, yeah, Zim. I thought we already established this?” Dib replied, sounding confused.  
“No, I know. I am… thinking.” He turned to Gaz. “He is brother, that make you…?”

“Sister. I’m his sister. We’re siblings.”

“You do not act like siblings.” Zim muttered. Dib tilted his head, interested, and scooted in closer.

“What does that mean?” Zim shrugged, taking a sip of his water.

“You do not.”

“How do you think siblings are supposed to act?” Gaz asked. Zim pondered this, swirling the water in the bottle around.

“I… you are friends. Siblings are not.”

“We’re not  _ friends _ .” Dib scoffed, but Gaz ignored him.

“Do you have siblings?” She asked. He considered her, and then nodded.

“Yes… No.”

“It’s not a hard question, doofus.” Dib remarked.

“Knock it off, it’s not his first language.” Gaz scolded, before turning back to Zim, who was glaring at Dib. “What does that mean, Zim?” Without even hesitating, Zim calmly dumped half of the water in his water bottle onto Dib’s lap.

“Hey! What the fuck?” Dib jumped up, desperately trying to wipe the water off his jeans before it soaked in, but he was not successful. Zim smiled, and turned back to show Gaz the bottle of water.

“Like this.” He said. Gaz stared in confusion at the bottle, until she understood what Zim was trying to say.

“Do you mean half sibling? Not full?”

“Yes.”

“So… what do you mean that we don’t act like siblings? Do you act differently with yours?”

“I… We are not close.”

“Oh.”

“Why not?” Dib asked, pissed off from the water incident.

“It is not for you to know.”

“Why not?” He whined.

“Dib, mind your business. Jeez.” He huffed, mumbling to himself something about ‘stupid aliens.’

“You don’t have to tell us, or me, if you don’t want to.”

“Okay.”

“Oh come on,” Dib said. “Tell us  _ something. _ Are they older, or younger?”

“I do not understand.”

“Like, who’s the baby of the family? The youngest, smallest… you know.”

“I am.” Dib laughed, placing his elbows on his knees and leaning over the firepit.

“Awww, look at you! The wittle baby bwother.”

“Dib.” Gaz warned. He raised his hands in a surrendering gesture, leaning back in his seat.

“Which parent do you share with your sibling?” Dib asked. “Your mother or-”

“Father.” Zim growled. Knowing how touchy  _ that _ subject was, Gaz interrupts Dib’s next question.

“Why don’t we talk about something else, okay?” Zim stood up, stumbling a bit over a log as he walked to put his empty water bottle in the car. Dib followed him with his eyes, and when he felt that he was a significant enough distance away, he leaned in and whispered to Gaz.

“I didn’t like that tone.”

“So?” She said tiredly.

“I just… he’s so uptight. He hardly talks about himself. He’s  _ hiding _ something.”

“You know what Dib? Not everyone likes talking about their family issues, Jesus.”

“I just think-” He glanced back at Zim, who was returning to the firepit. “I just think it’s suspicious.” Gaz rolled her eyes.

“You think everything is suspicious.”

“I might be right about this one!” As he finished his sentence, Zim tripped, again, on the same log as we walked back to his seat.

“Are you okay?” Gaz asked.

“Yeah, I am… fine.” He shook his head like he was dizzy, and leaned on one hand.

“I think you had too much sugar.” Gaz laughed, but Zim just shook his head no.

“I have not! I am fine.” He giggled under his breath, and Gaz gave him a look.

“Sure…” She looked around, suddenly realizing something.

“Hey, where’s Gir?” Dib looked up surprised, glancing over at the empty waffle station.

“Huh. Probably went to hang out in the woods again. Stupid robot.”

“Ao!” Zim said sharply. “Do not say mean things about Gir!”

“He’s a moron and you know it.” Dib deadpanned.

“Maybe…” Zim sniffed. “More waffle?” He asked Gaz.

“No. You’ve had enough.”

“Awwww, rith?” Please? He whined, leaning in shakily, as if he was about to lose his balance.

“I said no, Zim.” She said, a smile grazing her lips.

“Does he always get like this when he has sugar?” Dib asked.

“Uh, no, actually. This is… new.” She said, a hint of concern on her voice.

“Al kha ad usped.” Zim murmured happily. You are so… she remembers this… pretty? A small blush began to form on her face, and Dib noticed.

“What did he say?”

“I, um. I don’t know.” She cleared her throat, reaching one hand up to steady Zim.

“Al kha to usped mí nú’e yí sínsaowieích fím Irk.” He said, moving one hand in a broad gesture at the sky.

“Oh, okay Zim. Cool it, a little.” She stuttered out. He reached up and began to run his fingers through her hair.

“Kaí vaích a rew…” He said happily.

“Well, while you two do… whatever the hell that is I’m gonna make myself a waffle.” Dib said, getting up to walk over to the waffle maker.

“Fin al kaí kaí kho z̀eír engeí? Kaí pat búshaokeí al ao z̀eír sínsoíthi.” Now she had no  _ clue _ what that was.

“Zim, I don’t speak Irken, remember?”

“Ad? Zaíd, kho kaí ú tulkaraolkay english?” Zim said confusedly.

“No Zim, you’re not speaking English. You’re speaking Irketsi.”

“Woí chuya enga?”

“Still Irketsi.”

“Hey Gaz?” Dib called out. “I think I know what’s up with him.”

“What is it?”

“There are um. It looks like ripped up mushrooms in the waffle mix.” Gaz practically jumped in the air with how quickly she got up to investigate.

“What? How?” She said, jogging up to where the mix was to investigate. Sure enough, what looked like batter slathered mushroom pieces. “Oh my god, Dib, those could be poisonous!” Dib winced, and rubbed his hand behind his neck.

“I don’t… I don’t think so.”

“Did you do this?”

“No! Gir probably did this. He’s the one that made them, and that stupid waffle was so burnt you couldn’t see the mushrooms…”

“Oh my god, he could die!” She began to panic, stumbling back a few feet from the waffle mix.

“Nah… he’s gonna be fine.” Dib muttered.

“How do you know that?” Gaz snapped, causing Dib to wince.

“Don’t tell dad but… I’ve seen these before.” Gaz facepalmed.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Okay, so I snuck into this party when I was still at college, and it was getting kind of late-”

“I actually don’t care Dib.” She sighed relievedly. “I’m just glad they’re not poisonous.”

“Gaz!” Zim yelled, struggling to stand up from his seat.

“No, Zim, don’t stand up-”

“Kho aokh sínsoíthi?” He slurred.

“Doesn’t all that gibberish bore you?” Gaz turned to glare at him.

“It’s not gibberish… I think it’s a little endearing.” She muttered to herself. Dib scoffed, turning back to look at the waffle mix.

“Sounds like simping to me.”

“You would know, it’s your native language.” She said, walking away to help Zim.

“Hey!” Dib whined.

“I only speak the truth! She called back.

“I’m not a simp…” He mumbled. 

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Night was approaching, and a figure crouched in the trees, watching a couple of soldiers standing in front of a jeep. He blended perfectly into the thick, dark foliage, only noticeable if you were looking. He listened, intently, to the conversation going on below him.

“We’ve looked over this whole town and have found nothing.” One of the soldiers complained. 

“Yeah, and we ain’t gonna find anything either. We’re always one step behind the damn thing.”

“No kidding. You know I heard that psycho is getting inpatient.”  
“Who, the general? I heard his wife ran off with-”

“Nah, not him. Norton.” The figure’s attention piqued at the name, and he subtly leaned in to be able to hear better.

“Eh, I don’t care about him. He doesn’t pay me, and I don’t have to deal with him either.”

“Good point.” The soldier laughed. “Hey, when they call us in for the day, you wanna- Hey, what was that?” The soldier stood to attention, peering into the woods.

“What was what?” The figure in the trees was confused, knowing he hadn’t been spotted. Even he turned around to look into the woods, not seeing anything particular.

“I thought I saw something. It was… weird. Small, and shiny.”

“Shiny?”

“Yeah. I’m telling you man, I  _ saw _ something.”

“I believe you, sheesh. Where did you-” A squeal cut him off. The noise sounded like a child, but oddly metallic in nature, as if a computer generated it.

“That sounded like… a kid.” He rolled his eyes. “Dude, it’s probably just some family-”

“Didn’t they say there was a robot with them?”

“Shit, they did. Call it in. Where did it go?”

“I think it went-”

“Do you have waffles?” The two soldiers looked to their right, at the source of the sound, and nearly jumped in shock. The figure in the trees raised his eyebrows in surprise, squinting to get a better look.

“What?” One of the soldiers said.

“I can do a dance for waffles! Look!” The soldiers watched, bewildered, as the child sized thing began doing the macarena, all the while repeating the word ‘macaroni’ to the tune of the song.

“Macaroni, macaroni, macaroni-”

“We should… catch it, right?”

“Yeah. We should.” The soldiers looked at eachother, and one nodded, and at the same time they lunged for the robot.

“No!” He screamed. “I just want a waffle!” He turned, spun on his heel, and bolted off towards the woods. The soldiers chased after him, and one of them picked a radio off his belt, and yelled into it.

“We have a sighting! We have a sighting! Envoy 7-D has a sighting!” The figure in the trees cracked his neck, and followed them.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

It had been a few hours, and it seemed that Zim was beginning to come to his senses, but as it was, he was still out of it. Much to Dib’s chagrin, Gaz had somehow allowed Zim to lie down on the floor and rest his head in her lap, with her sitting on the ground with him. He reached up with his hands, and ran his fingers through her hair, murmuring in a weird mix of english and irken, not even seeming to care that some of the things he said made her blush. Dib, on the other hand was incredibly annoyed by it. He fumed that Zim was even  _ near _ his sister, let alone… this.

“Gaz… person aitsh.”

“That’s nice, Zim.”

“Yes.” He whispered. “Hair… so veírma.”

“For the millionth time Zim, I don’t know what that means!” Zim giggled at this, but seemed to ignore her anyway.

“Usped…” He said, yet again.

“I know, Zim. I’m very flattered that you think I’m-”

“They want my macaroni!” Gir screamed, running into the campsite. “They want my macaroni!”

“Well, look who finally came back?” Dib grumbled as Gir latched himself to his leg.

“They want my macaroni!” He cried out, squeezing Dib’s leg for reassurance. Dib sighed, and tiredly tried to calm down Gir.

“Who wants your macaroni. Hey, you don’t even have-”

“The bad men want my macaroni!” Dib rolled his eyes.

“What bad men.”

“The-” Zim suddenly sat up, almost pulling Gaz’s hair with him, and turned to Gaz, alarmed.

“Person aitsh.”

“What?” She said. “Zim, if you’re about to have a bad trip I’m-” He shook his head, mouthing a few words to himself before beginning to struggle to his feet.

“Person  _ coming. _ ” He mentally kicked himself for not realizing it sooner, but his thinking was rather slow. Gaz immediately got to her feet, eyes widening in alarm.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He slurred. Gaz decided it was better safe than sorry, and started to head for the car.

“Let’s go! We need to leave,  _ now. _ Gir, what did those men look like?”

“Scary.” He whined.

“Okay that’s not helpful.” She whispered to herself. “What were they wearing.” She asked as they climbed into the car.

“Clothes!” She groaned with annoyance, and they waited for Dib to start the car. The engine turned, and turned… and turned, and didn’t start. Dread began to fill her stomach as she peered over Dib’s shoulder at the dash. The gas was full, why wasn’t the car starting?

“Oh my god Dib, you idiot.”

“What!?” He hissed.

“The engine light is blinking! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It wasn’t blinking before! It was just on!”

“Well that’s important!” She yelled.

“I didn’t think it was going to start blinking!”  
“So? It’s fucking blinking now!”

“Well it doesn’t matter does it! What, was I gonna drop our  _ stolen _ car off at the mechanic?”

“Oh my god. I can not believe-” Zim interrupted her, lightly tapping her shoulder and pointing behind them. In the distance, headlights were coming up the long gravel road.

“Fuck.” Gaz stammered. “Get out of the car, get out of the car, we’ve got to go, go, go!” The four of them excited the car as quickly as they could.

“Now what?” Dib said. 

“I don’t fucking know! I don’t know, shit!” Zim’s antenna twitched, and he made a decision.

“Person that way.” He pointed, then shifted to the opposite direction. “We go there.”

“Okay let’s stop standing around and move it!” Gaz leaned down to scoop up Gir. The four of them ran off, into the forest, and the night.

As they ran, Gaz turned her head and saw it. Flashlights trailing them. Her adrenaline was pumping, the night wind whipping her hair in her face. Her worries about the situation bubbled inside of her like a boiling pot of water. What if they were caught? Where were they going? What would happen now? She took deep breaths, trying to focus on not running into a tree in the dark, trying to stay close to Zim and Dib, and Gir kept squirming in her arms, which was  _ not _ helping. She was focused so intently on her fears that she almost ran into Zim when he paused.

“Go!” She angrily whispered. He looked confused, staring upwards at the darkness.

“Tree man.” He said. Angrily not wanting to deal with his high antics, she shifted Gir into one arm, grabbed his hand and pulled.

“Come on!” She practically begged, leading the way. The three of them ran, for what felt like hours, struggling through the thick undergrowth of the forest, blinded by the dark. She kept tripping on roots, the only thing keeping her from falling was Zim’s support. The darkness was thick, like syrup, clogging her eyes and choking her voice with fear. It was everywhere, in every corner, growing ever faster like a weed, and it took all her strength to not cry out with frustration. She just had to keep going, to keep going to keep-

Suddenly, Zim began to slow down, rapidly, and she was forced to slow down with him, along with Dib, who was right behind her.

“Zim, go!” In response, Zim merely lifted her had, and held it in front of her, placing her hand on something. Cold stone. They had hit a cliff wall. Gaz felt her desperation increase, but she decided to pick a direction and go with it. 

“Let’s go that way and-”

“Stop right there!” She whirled around to see two lights approaching her. Flashlights. Her heart seized in her chest, and she made a split second decision, pulling Zim behind her, using herself as a shield. She felt Zim’s hand on her shoulder, and heard the subtle click of his gun readying. It was only two soldiers, she calculated. She could take them. The soldiers stopped about ten feet away from them, the sounds of guns cocking echoing through the silent woods.

“Hand over the alien or we’ll shoot!” One of the soldiers yelled.

“There is no alien, you idiots!” Gaz yelled back. All she had to do was stall them until Zim shot them, but Zim had barely moved. She glanced behind her, the light from the flashlights dimly reflecting on his skin. He looked dazed, squinting at some far off spot. Great. She grabbed the gun from his limp hand, and tried to fire it. Nothing.

“Shit.” She whispered.

“If you don’t hand over-” The soldier's voice cut off with a yelp, and his flashlight abruptly dropped to the ground.

“David?” The other soldier nervously asked, his flashlight lowering to the ground slightly. 

“What-” Dib muttered. The remaining soldier laughed nervously, taking a step towards the gang.

“Davi-” As quick as the other one, his flashlight dropped to the ground, and the soldier disappeared. The three of them stood silently in complete confusion, staring at the discarded flashlights on the ground.

“I’m gonna… grab one?” Gaz said, taking a step forward. A soft thump made her stop in her tracks, as she stared ahead at the red eyes. Her brain felt like it short circuited, and she opened her mouth to say something, but Zim beat her to it.

“It look like we are not alone.”


End file.
